


Letters from the Dead

by fierda



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Angst, Cutting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Psychological Horror, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-24
Updated: 2012-10-31
Packaged: 2017-11-14 23:01:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 24,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fierda/pseuds/fierda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard Way is an FBI agent.</p><p>He's brilliant at his job. Too brilliant. He has a knack for developing criminal profiles just from analyzing the crime scene and its victims... especially for analyzing the villains behind crimes of passion. He's good at it… for a reason that only he himself knows.</p><p>A case brings up horrible memories of a past... Memories he chose to bury twenty years ago. Can he overcome the onslaught of ghosts from his past, or will he succumb to his greatest secret?</p><p><a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceincake/pseuds/spaceincake">
spaceincake</a> is currently doing a <a href="http://ficbook.net/readfic/1456174">Russian translation</a>  of this fic. Thank you very much! C:</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginning of the Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Breaking Benjamin - Had Enough
> 
> You had to have it all, well, have you had enough?  
> You greedy little bastard, you will get what you deserve  
> When all is said and done, I will be the one  
> To leave you in your misery and hate what you've become
> 
> Heaven help you  
> Heaven help you

The teenager was tall and gangly. He had jet-black hair that fell messily over his shoulders, a stark contrast with his pale skin. His face was freckled. His lips were dry and red, his pink tongue slipping out frequently, bringing out a trail of saliva to moisten them.  
  
Crystal beads of perspiration burst forth from the acne-covered skin on his forehead, giving it a rather greasy appearance. By the bucketfuls of sweat the teenager was releasing, it was obvious that he was going to be dehydrated soon.  
  
They hadn’t given him any water, hoping that the teenager would ultimately cave in to the duress. It was a psychological trade secret… discomfort was the way to go.  
  
After all, humans are all spoilt creatures.  
  
The teenager shifted apprehensively in his seat. His glasses slid forward and he pushed them up awkwardly, his mouth agape as he let out a shaky breath.  
  
He was nervous.  
  
Another sign that whatever barriers he had up was slowly being shredded away.  
  
Gerard surveyed the jumpy, gawking teenager in front of him. Ten years of experience had trained him well. His face betrayed nothing, but he was bemused by the situation. Gerard had an excellent memory. Still, he couldn’t help but take another look at the brown tattered file that held all the information about the teenager in front of him.  
  
Adam Monroe. Gerard’s hazel eyes zoomed in on Adam’s birthday.  
  
 _Born 14 March 1997._  
  
Gerard’s mind did the maths **again** and his stomach flipped.  
 **  
15.  
**  
Holy shit.  
  
He really was 15. Adam was only fucking **15 years old.**  
  
This was the man… no, the **boy** , who raped and brutally murdered sweet and innocent sixteen year old Rachel Phillips?  
  
Gerard felt his stomach clench as he recalled the crime scene. Rachel’s body had been abandoned in the neighborhood park. He would never forget the way Rachel Phillips had been murdered.  
  
In his ten years of experience at the bureau, he had seen much… **too much.** He wasn’t conceited enough to believe that he had seen everything, but it was _enough_ for him. Pedophiles, incest, cold-blooded murders, violent deaths, crimes of passion… Every time he looked down at a dead body, he felt weary. Another withered flower of life.  
  
But the way Rachel was murdered… Gerard knew. It wasn’t one of those case-closed-and-forget-about-it-or-occasionally-think-about-it cases. It was one of those I-will-haunt-you-for-the-rest-of-your-life cases. Gerard was sure of it.  
  
Rachel was practically burnt into his mind.  
  
Reddish hair splayed out from her cold, white face, a pool of thick blood around her head. Her hair was deeply matted with blood. Red against red, Gerard almost couldn’t tell her hair from her blood. Her face. Even in death, her deathly-pale face was beautiful. Smooth and pure, like snow. Her eyes were open, her green orbs slowly becoming cloudy-white, locked forever in a timeless stare. Her mouth was open, showing her teeth. Dried blood oozed out from between her teeth, staining the extraordinarily white a dirty brownish crimson. The thin lips were delicate, like a doll’s, a trail of blood at the edges.  
  
The thin blue cotton blanket that had first surrounded her body had been uncovered, revealing her naked and battered body. Gerard had felt, at that instant, that the killer had a tinge of compassion. Or, at least he had regretted the act, for he had covered her up, conserving her last shred of dignity. She had a thin and delicate figure that had once been beautiful. Untouched and innocent. Her frail body had probably not stood a chance against the violent act. Purple-black flowers blossomed along her arms, around her neck, and between her legs. Deep bruising.  
  
Rape.  
  
Rachel’s hand was firmly clenched, and placed over her heart, as though in her last, dying moments, she had been feeling her fading heartbeat.  
  
As Gerard stood over her, he had thought…  
  
“What were you thinking in your final moments? Were you panicking? Were you looking into the eyes of your killer, and praying that it was all just a bad dream?”  
  
Gerard lifted his head from the file, taking a sip from his iced water. The Styrofoam cup made a slight, scratchy sound as his fingers clutched the white foam material. He swallowed, the cool water soothing his dry throat as he drank.  
  
 _“Dangle the carrot in front of the rabbit to make it jump.”_  
  
The thought crossed his mind as he was aware of Adam watching him. In the silence of the room, he could hear Adam swallow loudly as he watched Gerard drink.  
  
He wasn’t afraid of taking his time to speak, or do anything else with Adam. In fact, the deafening silence gave the interrogators an additional intimidating edge. Fear, after all, builds up over time. Another psychological trick he had picked up from his mentors.  
  
He snapped out of his reverie. Gerard finally looked frigidly back at Adam. Adam’s gaze hardened; his crystal-blue eyes growing stony. Gerard continued to stare at him, engaged in an intense mental battle with the teenager. The boy was destined to lose from the start. He thought he felt Adam crack slightly when Adam’s gaze faltered; though momentarily. The frosty demeanor slipped, and Gerard caught a look of fear peeking slightly through Adam’s mask. Then Adam looked away, his blue eyes troubled, darting swiftly to the nondescript table.  
  
“Guilty conscience,” Gerard thought.  
  
Gerard shut the folder, his fingers automatically smoothing out the dog-ears at the edges. His mind felt that ever-familiar, sharp edge of irritation.  
  
He had always felt uncomfortable with things being out of place. It was a terrible habit, but very convenient for an FBI agent. He had to make sure that things were right in place, right where they belonged. They had to _fit._ It was ironic, really. He was a crime-fighter, working twenty-four seven against evil and bringing criminals to justice… yet he couldn’t stand things being “not right” when he was usually right smack dab in the middle of it. But that habit helped, at times. It gave him a never-ending thirst to get to the bottom of things.  
  
His mind searched for the correct word, as he tried to describe his condition.  
  
 _Paradox._  
  
The word popped into his mind as though someone had whispered it into his ear.  
  
He thought about it.  
  
Yes, a paradox. He had always liked the way the word sounded, his voice caressing the “x” at the end, dragging it out. It sounded smooth, and sexy. Smart and masculine too.  
  
Gerard tugged uselessly at the dog ears, trying to flatten them but they flipped automatically backwards. He tsk-ed mentally at the stubborn edges. Casting the file aside, he turned towards his partner, exchanging a knowing gaze with Agent Raymond Toro. A gaze that said, “I’ll let you do the honors.”  
  
Agent Toro nodded, before he cleared his throat swiftly, pressing his fingers to his Adam’s apple. Adam looked up from his fingers; eyeing Ray’s afro with perceptible disdain. He had earlier been lacing and unlacing his long lanky fingers rather agitatedly together as he waited for the cross-examination to commence. Gerard hid a grin as he recognized the ascetic expression on Toro’s face; Adam had offended his partner with his non-too subtle distaste of his hairstyle.  
  
“My name is Agent Toro, and this is Agent Way. Before we begin…” Agent Toro pronounced the words rather stiffly, his fingers hovering carelessly over the laptop. Adam’s statement would be typed out into the device by Ray while Agent Way would conduct the interrogation. It had always been their practice, an unspoken agreement between them since they started out as partners.  
  
Agent Way observed Ray as he continued to speak. Agent Toro was a tall, striking man. He was extremely righteous, very smart, and intuitive, a quality that came in handy on the job. He had a likeable, friendly face. He had a personality that fit with his face too – he was a gentle, understanding man. Gerard trusted the man with his life; Agent Toro was a loyal and reliable friend, willing to go to great lengths for his friends. However, Agent Toro was no pushover – he was the best shooter in the team, not to mention the only one who had obtained marksmanship. He was so good that he could shoot the bull’s eye blindfolded.  
  
Gerard wondered why the higher-ups had decided to put them together. They were polar opposites. He had heard himself being described as “cold, dark and menacing” by his colleagues. He had even earned himself the moniker, Lucifer, after the fallen angel. Maybe it was because they were so unlike, that they complemented each other, he considered. Whatever the rationale, it had been an excellent one, for the two had gone on to crack many a tough case for the unit.  
  
Agent Way had a knack for developing criminal profiles just from analyzing the crime scene and its victims. He visualized, he dug deep into cases, he understood, and he _saw_ the reasons behind it all. He could imagine himself hunting down the victims, he could see himself enjoying the feeling that came with the kill… the exhilaration, the pure **ecstasy** and the thrill… and the sense of accomplishment… so much so that he **was the criminal himself** … He saw it all. He was so good that he had ninety percent accuracy – he seldom failed in eyeballing the fugitives’ motives. He was well-known in the unit, _especially_ for analyzing the villains behind crimes of passion.  
  
He was good at it… for a reason that **only** he himself knew.  
  
Gerard pursed his lips. His jaw muscles tightened automatically and his teeth clenched. He felt his teeth grind together in response to the caustic taste in his throat, and he grimaced. He wondered how his fellow Agents would react if they knew the reason why he was so good at his job. Would they have faces twisted in pure disgust and revulsion? Shock? Hate? Anger? _Pity?_  
  
Maybe Lucifer was an apt name for him after all… for he had long fallen from the graces of heaven. He had no doubt that Heaven wasn’t what was in store for him in the afterlife.  
  
“Wait.” Adam interrupted Agent Toro in mid-sentence. Agent Way glanced at Adam, and then his hazel eyes flickered to Ray. Agent Toro had been gesturing with his fingers as he spoke, and they now hung, suspended in mid-air. The look of astonishment was palpable on Ray’s countenance as Ray eyed the bespectacled adolescent rather suspiciously in front of him. It was comical the way his hands were perched over his laptop, as though he was about to reach out and seize Adam by his collar.  
  
“Grab, shake and throttle.” Agent Way reflected wryly.  
  
Adam huffed, his chest rising as he sighed. He ran his fingers through his dark hair, opening his lips as though to speak, and then closing them again. His hand was thoroughly wet with sweat when he pulled it out from the tangled mess. His blue eyes were solemn and accepting.  
  
“I confess.” His parched lips moved slowly.  
  
“I am responsible for the rape and murder of Rachel Phillips.”  
  
Gerard could hardly stop himself before his jaw sunk open in utter incredulity.  
  
The two agents exchanged glances.  
  
“That was quick,” Agent Way thought.

 


	2. Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard interrogates a criminal that rakes up memories of a past long buried...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > Skillet - Monster
>> 
>> The secret side of me, I never let you see  
> I keep it caged but I can't control it  
> So stay away from me, the beast is ugly  
> I feel the rage and I just can't hold it

  
****

Agent Way stared at Adam, his eyebrows folded in the middle.  
  
The gauche half-child, half-adult in front of Gerard was deeply absorbed in his recount, a look of pure ecstasy and excitement on his face. Once Adam had decided to confess, he hardly needed encouragement to speak… he was willing enough to spill out what he had done to Rachel to the disgruntled agents in front of him.  
  
“Two sides of the coin,” he thought. Adam had earlier been meek, like a scared little rabbit. A helpless, innocent, vulnerable teenager. Now cornered, he had transformed into an ugly, grotesque monster - the monster that had killed Rachel Phillips.  
 _  
Rachel had simply been unlucky.  
_  
Gerard’s grip on the Styrofoam cup tightened as Rachel’s broken body flashed again in his mind.  
  
“Rachel’s so beautiful. Her red hair, her green eyes… I always saw her, for what she was. An angel, uncomfortable, unsuitable and awkward in the human world. But still beautiful. Beautiful.” Adam repeated, rather dreamily.  
  
“She was perfect, intelligent… but she wasn’t mine. I was frustrated. I was a mere mortal. Imperfect, flawed… She couldn’t be mine. She was always there, right in front of me, taunting me to take her… to own her… I needed her. I wanted to have her… But she wasn’t mine. Don’t you understand? It was the only way I could have her… ” Adam continued, as he closed his eyes.  
  
Gerard swallowed. Something stirred within him… The red, ugly demon inside, baring its teeth, rearing its head. Gerard shifted, suddenly aware of how disturbed he really was.  
  
“Shoot him. He’s a sinner.” A sulfurous hiss sounded, rising from the shadowy depths of his mind. “Kill the abomination…”  
  
 _Agent Way’s_ hand twitched instinctively over his weapon.  
  
But something held _Gerard_ back. He was mesmerized by Adam’s words…  
  
Agent Toro was impassive. He was typing on his sidekick, his fingers furiously flying across the keys. The tip-tapping of the plastic keys sounded, like a soothing melody in the background.  
  
“I prayed, you know.” Adam said, his eyes opened and shining with glee.  
  
“For what?” Agent Way murmured gently, his voice not betraying his real emotions. He clenched his fingers, nails digging deeply into his palms.  
  
“I prayed to God, that he would give me a sign… a chance… to show her, how much we deserve to be together. To finally own her… That I was good enough for her. And He came through, for me.”  
  
Adam straightened, staring right into Gerard’s eyes. Icy blue fought and broke through warm hazel, oozing like posion into Gerard’s veins. Gerard’s insides froze as Adam spoke again, a twisted, warped smile on his lips.  
 _  
“He came through. He gave her to me…”  
_  
Adam’s voice played repeatedly in Gerard’s head, like a broken radio on repeat.  
  
Gerard’s heart began to race.  
  
“She was right there. Her hips swaying, tempting… right there, next to the alley. God was telling me to take the chance. He gave it to me, telling me that this stunning angel was rightfully mine. So I listened… I went up to her. She was smiling so prettily, her green eyes like clear jade… it was as though she knew that I was going to own her soon. She didn’t hear me coming up to her because she was listening to her music, her earphones plugged into her ears. She screamed, of course, but that must have been because I had given her a shock. I took her to the back of the dark alley…”  
  
“That was the first time I touched her.” Adam half-whispered. His face was crazed, his lips twisted in a permanent smirk. “She was so soft, so beautiful… and she was mine. I was ecstatic. God told me to take her, to own her… So I did. I kissed her, touched her…Worshipped her. She was so small, so delicate and **exquisite.** My hands trembled as I caressed her skin. She was so warm, so soft… so wet…” He shuddered, mumbling the words softly.  
  
“But she wouldn’t stop screaming.” He frowned suddenly. “I got angry. Couldn’t she see how good we were together? How we fit, so perfectly like the pieces to a puzzle? I was determined, to show her… I took her clothes off, touched her, **felt her** … I pushed myself into her… Skin against skin… She was so tight, she felt so good… Wet, warm… perfect. It was exhilarating… even better than what I had imagined before. And the best thing was… God had seen it all. He was right beside me, and he murmured into my ears, telling me that I was being rewarded, that I deserved this beautiful angel…”  
  
Gerard pushed the chair backwards abruptly, his body rising upwards. He couldn’t stand to hear any more.  
  
 _He needed air._  
  
Agent Toro looked back in alarm at Gerard as he staggered backwards. Gerard’s heart swelled, fluttering in anguish and dread. He was lost, lost in the storm of his memories. His head swarmed, Adam’s voice amplified in his mind. Adam was still in the middle of his confession, his eyes lost in his memories as he talked about Rachel.  
  
 _”Gerard… Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”_  
  
Gerard swallowed as he felt the sharp tang of bile, sour and pungent, rising in his throat.  
  
“Sorry.” Gerard muttered, before he hastily walked out of the room. He hazily saw, out of the corner of his eye, Ray giving a worried nod of his head, his afro bobbing. But Gerard didn’t care about anything else. He was blinded, blinded by his own thoughts and memories and overwhelmed by the emotions that assaulted him as he rushed to the toilet…  
  
*  
Dashing into the cubicle, Gerard locked it before he turned, back pressed up against the door. The walls of the locked cubicle surrounded him, making him feel claustrophobic. His head was spinning, and it felt as though someone was trying to tear his brains out of his skull.  
  
Before his eyes, Adam’s arctic blues bore into him once again. His smile stabbed through Gerard’s chest like daggers. Gerard was disgusted… Not only because he had been affected by the brutality and psychosis of Adam’s confession, but because he had **understood every word of it** … He had felt the thrill, the excitement of the hunt racing through his flesh as Adam spoke of his triumphs… Gerard’s gut began to convulse and spasm and he shivered, but not in response to cold…  
  
Gerard shot forward and hurled, vomiting.  
  
Gerard had saw, in Adam, **himself.**  
 _  
His teenage, monstrous self…  
_  
The devil in him had awakened, ripping away the façade that Gerard had taken years to build. The mask of a fearless, brilliant FBI agent. The mask of a successful… _righteous_ man. Gerard finally saw in himself, the beast that he really was… He turned to the toilet bowl, sobbing as he vomited again.  
  
 _She’s gone, Gerard.  
  
 **What?**  
  
Lizzie. Lizzie’s gone._  
  
The memories exploded into his mind, tearing down his defenses and roaring mercilessly, deafening his ears and ripping though his heart. He was breathless. Angry tears burst forth from his eyes, blurring his vision, and turning the ugly mess of vomit in front of him into darkness…  
  
 _”No, please, Gerard, no! No! Please…”_  
  
The screams rang clearly and loudly in his ears. And the relentless sobbing... Gerard let out a high-pitched keening sound, curling his fists tightly. He held them against his mouth, trying to cushion the melancholy sounds that were escaping from it. Gerard struggled to compose himself, trying to lock away the memories that he had kept for 20 years as he wept uncontrollably…  
  
 _”I love you, Lizzie. I love you, I love you, I love you…”_  
  
The disgusting condition of the cubicle helped Gerard in his efforts, with the yellowish stains and suspicious brown smears on the toilet seat. In a few minutes, he had successfully emptied his breakfast into the toilet bowl. His stomach contorted with the effort. He could smell the hydrochloric acid in his vomit, taste it in his throat. Gerard heaved and heaved, long after his stomach had been cleared. Tears intermingled with sweat and vomit.  
  
Gerard kneeled, still, before the soiled toilet bowl, breathing deeply. He ignored the stench, and instead, concentrated on getting air into his lungs, which were starting to cramp from the lack of oxygen. The exercise calmed him, and he managed to chase the blackness away from his mind.  
  
At least, for the moment.  
  
“Lucifer, the fallen angel, huddled over a toilet bowl.” The weird thought suddenly flew into his mind. The imagery had Gerard bursting out into laughter. The remaining tears trickled down his cheeks, but he had stopped crying. Laughing made his stomach hurt, but the giggles were incontrollable. He was puking his guts out here, yet he felt that surge of insanity cross the threshold in his mind. He clutched the sides of the bowl tightly, feeling weak. Taking care not to fall forward, he pushed himself to the side, falling heavily against the wall of the locked cubicle. Still chuckling, he yanked a long stretch of toilet paper out from the toilet roll, dabbing his mouth weakly. Grabbing another length of toilet paper, he wiped off his perspiration and tears away from his face.  
  
Humor was the only thing that kept an FBI agent going.  
  
Everything that he had seen was enough to drive a person insane… and humor was his only reassurance, his only insurance that would keep him alive, keep him sane.  
  
He tossed the soiled toilet paper into the toilet bowl, taking care not to look too carefully at the floating bits of god-knows-what inside it. He flushed the toilet, and nervously flattened his hair, soothing out his clothes. Hoping that no one had caught him in such a compromising position, he turned the lock, peeking out of the cubicle slightly. He let out a violent sigh of relief as he realized that the toilet was empty. Staggering towards the sinks, he lowered his head, turning on the tap and splashing his face with water.  
  
“Here.” A familiar voice sounded beside his ear.  
  
Gerard jumped backwards in surprise. Glancing at the direction where the voice came from, he caught a shocking-blue bottle in his hands in a reflex action as it was hurled in his direction.  
  
He examined the bottle of Listerine, keeping his eyes down, feeling self-conscious.  
  
“How long have you been here?” Gerard asked, very much mollified.  
  
“Long enough. Heard you worshipping the porcelain god. Went back to get this.” Came the long drawl.  
  
“Thanks.” Gerard muttered.  
  
“No problem.”  
  
Gerard opened the bottle of Listerine, tipping the cobalt liquid into the cap and then pouring it into his mouth. He gargled, then spit the liquid out, appreciating the refreshing feeling as the acrid taste of bile left his throat.  
  
Gerard heard a soft chuckle.  
  
“What’s the matter, case too difficult for you to stomach?”  
  
“Fuck off.” Gerard blurted out. His hazel orbs met sapphire in an angry look.  
  
Agent Bob Bryar was standing at the entrance of the Gent’s, arms folded and leaning casually against the door.  
  
“Ray’s worried.” He said simply. Gerard saw plainly, in those misty blues, that Bob was concerned too. A small smile came to Gerard’s lips. Bob was a stubborn man, much too obstinate for his own good.  
  
“And I want to know that I stood here for a good reason, watching your back and covering your ass while you were heaving it out in there.”  
  
The smile disappeared instantaneously from Gerard’s lips.  
  
“None of your business, Bryar.” He snarled angrily, pushing his way past the man.  
  
Bob grabbed Gerard by the arm, holding on tightly. Gerard tried to pull away, but Bob’s grip was unyielding. There was uncertainty and hesitation in the bright sapphire orbs that dulled somewhat as Gerard glared heatedly at him.  
  
“You need someone to talk to, you can, I… ya know. I…will be…here.” The man said nervously, awkwardly, his words a little jumbled, his eyes shifting, looking anywhere but at Gerard. Gerard’s anger softened. Bob wasn’t an affectionate man, and he had difficulty with such expressions of comfort. He was like a tiger, with the heart of a kitten. Bob purely cared about him, as a friend. He had watched his back while Gerard had been at his lowest, most desolate. Gerard had been most ungrateful, barking at him, dismissing his kindness. Despite the un-appreciativeness that Gerard had showed, Bob still offered to help. His heart lifted slightly at his friend’s big heart and chivalry.  
  
“Thanks.” He whispered, putting as much gratitude into the word as he could, squeezing Bob’s arm slightly before walking out.  
  
Bob was a good friend. But he couldn’t help Gerard.  
  
His heart sank at the bitter truth of his next thought.  
 __  
No one could.


	3. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Gerard to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > Rev Theory - Broken Bones
>> 
>> Holding my head high in the rising tide  
> And I can't win  
> And I can't fight  
> I keep holding on too tight  
> Running away from the world outside

 

Gerard was standing in front of the white door, his keys dangling in his right hand.  
  
He was baffled.  
  
He had made his way home, without even realizing it. In fact, he remembered nothing of his journey home. He looked back, slightly mystified, at his sleek and shiny black Toyota quietly parked in front of the house.  
  
Dazed, he pushed the metal keys into the lock, hearing the soft familiar click as the door opened.  
  
The sound of metal pots clanging in the kitchen drifted to his ear. He heard the sound of oil hissing against hot metal plates, of someone shuffling about in the kitchen, Converses squeaking against the marble floor, and an incessant string of profanities slipping from between those lips Gerard had grown to love. He sniffed the air, smelling the mouth-watering aroma of his favourite chicken casserole.  
  
 _Agent Way_ frowned, his countenance somber as his boyfriend continued banging pots and pans in the kitchen, apparently oblivious to the fact that Gerard had returned home. He needed to do something about the security of the house. Maybe he would install the spanking new state of the art system that he had seen in one of the posh houses along St. James Avenue that he had visited in one of his cases. It’ll cost quite a fortune, but at least he would feel better about his boyfriend’s safety.  
  
Gerard paused in front of the huge golden mirror next to the door, surveying himself. He was deathly pale. He looked like shit, and he knew it. His forehead was still encased in sweat, causing his jet-black hair to be stuck rather gawkily to his brow. He brushed the remaining cold sweat off his temple, before rubbing the palms of his clammy hands against his black slacks, drying them. He struggled in vain with his hair, trying to make himself presentable.  
  
He still looked like shit, Gerard thought, as he finally gave up his attempt.  
  
“I’m home!” Gerard called out, entering the living room, after determining that there was nothing else that he could do, except to pray futilely that his affectionate boyfriend would not notice his ghastly appearance.  
  
He heard the quick tread of footsteps, the left step heavier than the right, a little tidbit that he had observed about his boyfriend. Gerard sucked in a breath, preparing himself for the sight of his gorgeous boyfriend that never failed to take his breath away every single time.  
  
He wasn’t disappointed – he felt the steady whoosh as the air escaped from his lungs.  
  
“Gerard!”  
  
Frank Iero stepped into the living room, sending the huge jumpy butterflies fluttering wildly in Gerard’s stomach. They had been together since Gerard was twenty-seven, a good eight years, yet Frank still had **that** impact on him. Gerard’s eyes wandered from the floor, his hungry eyes making his way up Frank’s stature.  
  
Frank was wearing his tattered orange Converse shoes, a pair of black jeans that was torn at the knees, and his favourite black Misfits tee-shirt, but that was covered slightly by a hot pink Hello Kitty apron that Gerard had bought for him as a joke.  
  
Gerard suspected that Frank actually **liked** it, despite his dry comments upon receiving the gift.  
  
Gerard’s eyes travelled slowly up the smooth curve of Frank’s hips and his firm and sexy ass, and then up Frank’s muscular chest that was unfortunately, currently partially hidden behind the apron. For a moment, Gerard detested the hideous apron. However, not allowing himself to be distracted, his eyes continued the intense journey up Frank’s tattooed neck… and finally fell onto Frank’s face. His eyes traced that sharp incline of Frank’s chin, the soft curve of his jawbone, and the even, smooth round-ness of his cheeks, his rosy lips… and finally landed on Frank’s eyes. As the remnants of the last rays of sunlight danced from the open window into Frankie’s eyes, the hazel in Frank’s wide, innocent orbs gave way to a beautiful emerald green, calming and soothing Gerard.  
  
 _Your eyes are just like **Lizzie’s.**  
  
You’re the first and last person I need to see right now._  
  
Almost instantly, Gerard felt hot tears prickling at the edges of his irises.  
  
Frank had been smiling widely, laughing and talking as he waved a wooden spoon animatedly in the air, unaware of Gerard’s despair.  
  
The big smile fell from Frank’s pink, moist lips the moment he saw Gerard’s miserable face.  
  
“Oh, Gerard.” Frank bit his lip ring as he whispered. He dropped the spoon on the floor carelessly, more concerned about his lover than anything else.  
  
No other words were exchanged as the two men neared each other. There wasn’t a need for words. Frank took Gerard’s face gently in his hands, and brought it towards his own, so that they were looking at each other. In a quick yet passionate movement, Frank caressed Gerard’s right cheek gently with his thumb. Gerard felt his skin burn in response to Frank’s touch. Frank’s eyes never left Gerard’s as he nuzzled Gerard, bumping their noses together in an affectionate gesture. Gerard saw himself, reflected in the sea of innocent brown.  
  
It was a routine they always carried out. Every day when Gerard returned home, Frank would greet him in this way, with a special look for Gerard. Sometimes it was a “I’m-proud-of-you” look. Other times, it was a “I’m-sorry-your-day-sucked” look, or a “It’s-okay,-things-like-that-happen-sometimes”. Today, it was a “I’m-here-for-you-and-I-love-you” look.  
  
So tender and soft.  
  
Gerard fell to his knees, his legs suddenly weak. His vision blurred as the blistering tears completely filled his eyes.  
  
Frank kneeled too, pressing his lips gently against Gerard’s forehead. The fingers on his left hand threaded into Gerard’s dark locks, while his right hand pulled Gerard closer in an embrace. Gerard was unyielding at first. He fought against Frank’s efforts. Angry at himself for being so pathetic, he pushed Frank’s hand away, batting at it, but Frank was persistent. Frank’s gentle arms circled around Gerard’s chest, pressing Gerard’s shuddering body against his, despite Gerard’s struggles. Gerard’s tears dripped silently down his cheeks as he finally gave in to both Frank and his weakness, his head falling miserably against Frank’s torso. Frank cradled Gerard’s head as he leaned downwards; kissing the crystals that escaped the edges of Gerard’s eyes, like fugitives who had finally broken free from prison, liberated. Gerard seldom broke down like this in front of Frank. His body was just like a prison for his tears.  
  
Gerard’s fists clenched tightly on the front of Frank’s apron, and he let out a soft whimper as he wrapped himself into a smaller ball, broken and helpless. Frank’s embrace tightened around him, as he whispered comfortingly to Gerard. Gerard heard nothing, but felt the force of Frank’s love for him. He felt as though he had been swimming in the ocean for so long, the waves relentlessly crashing against him, the waters pulling him down, and Frank was all he had, his life buoy; his solace; his savior.  
  
It was a while before Gerard finally pulled away from Frank, dabbing furiously at his wet hazel orbs.  
  
“Sorry.” He muttered under his breath, turning a delicate pink.  
  
Frank merely nodded. He knew that his lover was proud, and rarely showed emotion like this. Something bad must have happened. His callused fingers traced a gentle path across Gerard’s face, trapping the last tears that stubbornly stayed on Gerard’s cheeks. Gerard gazed at his lover, thankful that Frank loved **him**.  
  
“Better?” Frank asked.  
  
Gerard nodded.  
  
“Bad day?” he asked sympathetically and softly.  
  
 _Understatement of the day._  
  
Gerard nodded again.  
  
“We… we caught the guy. Rachel’s case.” Gerard muttered, staring at the floor. His heart began to thud violently as he awaited Frank’s reaction.  
  
“Good. I hope the fucker burns in hell soon.”  
  
Gerard’s eyes shot up, his deep hazels instantly glued to his lover’s face, which was burning with intense hate. Though Gerard couldn’t and didn’t share information about the cases he worked on with Frank, Rachel’s case had attracted the attention of the media. The news carried information on her, and so Frank knew about it and had developed a huge interest in it.  
  
“He’s only fifteen, Frankie!” Gerard protested.  
  
 _So had Gerard when he had done the most terrible thing in the world._  
  
“So what? That doesn’t make his crime any less despicable.” Frank spat, a little too harshly, his chest heaving slightly.  
  
Gerard flinched.  
  
Frank noticed this, and his expression softened. He didn’t understand why his words had hurt Gerard, but he apologized just the same. He couldn’t stand Gerard being upset.  
  
“Sorry… I just…” He sighed. He rubbed his knuckles gently against Gerard’s cheek. “I miss my sister. She was…the same age as Rachel, you know? When she died.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
Silence. Then…  
  
“Frankie?” Gerard’s eyes fluttered open.  
  
“Yea?” His lover’s eyes wandered all over Gerard’s face, wordlessly conveying his apology.  
  
“I think something’s burning…” Gerard smiled weakly.  
  
“FUCK!”  
  
With that violent curse, Frank turned and dashed into the kitchen.  
  
Gerard turned, closing his eyes and immersing his face in the shadows. A single tear, burst forth beneath his closed eyelids, sparkling as it hit the floor.


	4. Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Avenged Sevenfold - Nightmare
> 
> Nothing stops the madness,  
> Turning, haunting, yearning  
> Pull the trigger
> 
> You should have known  
> The price of evil

 

 

 

 _Gerard is dreaming again._  
  
He knows he is.  
  
In addition to the familiar, dream-like quality of his surroundings, and the fact that he is watching himself move about in the living room, he knows that he has had this same exact dream before. In fact, he had been having the same dream for a long time.  
  
The dreams had started since the Rachel Phillips’ case, and he had been having it for months now.  
  
And though it never changed, each time he had the dream, it weakened him. Reduced him to a blubbering mess of tears when he woke up.  
  
He was falling apart, slowly and gradually.  
  
Gerard is watching his dream-self sit on the black leather sofa in the living room. He doesn’t bother to wake himself from the nightmare anymore, it never works, and the fear and dread is much, much worse as he fights against time to wake himself up. The last time he tried he had woken up screaming, terrifying his lover.  
  
Dream-Gerard is staring at the television, which hasn’t been switched on, seemingly dazed. In his left hand are three envelopes; in his right a single red rose.  
  
Dream-Gerard suddenly stands up, and places the envelopes on the coffee-table, taking care to arrange them in such a way so that the names of the people each envelope was addressed to could be seen.  
  
“Ray, Bob, Frank.” Gerard is looking over Dream-Gerard’s shoulders as he reads the neat print on the envelopes. Dream-Gerard places the red rose over Frank’s envelope.  
  
And then, Dream-Gerard goes back to the sofa, sitting down. His right hand travels to his side, drawing his weapon - a sleek, black, cold number. Dream-Gerard fingers the safety catch on the gun. Gerard hears the familiar click of the gun as the catch is released, and his heart begins to race. Gerard shudders.  
  
He knows what is coming next.  
  
Dream-Gerard lifts the gun up, hesitating. Dream-Gerard’s hands are trembling; the gun is shaking in his hands. He is mumbling under his breath, a crazed look in his eyes.  
  
Gerard begins to back away from Dream-Gerard, and away from a particular corner in the room. He sees a dark swirl that oozes out of the ground, starting to take shape in that corner. A figure.  
  
But of course, Dream-Gerard does not see the figure.  
  
Dream-Gerard presses the barrel of the gun against his temple. Gerard moans softly under his breath.  
  
“No, no, no, no…”  
  
And then Dream-Gerard suddenly smiles. Gerard’s moan becomes a shout, but the shout doesn’t drown out Dream-Gerard’s voice…  
  
“You win, Lizzie.”  
  
Gerard shrieks as Dream-Gerard pulls the trigger. The dream feels so real at this point, he feels the warmness of the blood that splatters onto him. He lifts his fingers, rubbing over the blood… wincing at the coppery, sticky texture… **his** blood on his cheeks.  
  
Gerard stares, horrified, at Dream-Gerard. His eyes are wide open, his mouth agape, and the side of his temple blown out by the gun-shot. His arms fall in slow-motion, dangling on each side of the sofa, like a broken china doll. The gun clatters to the ground, the metal scrape against the floor screaming loudly in Gerard’s ears. Its deadly job is done.  
  
The nightmare has only just begun, Gerard thinks.  
  
His stomach knots over. He knows what will happen next, and the very thought terrifies him. But better face his fear straight on, than let it come up behind your back, he thinks. Gerard turns reluctantly, and his mouth goes dry. His heart stops.  
  
The figure in the corner has fully taken shape.  
  
 **Lizzie.**  
  
He sees her every day in his dreams, but she never fails to send a fresh violent wave of terror in him when he sees her. Lizzie is speaking, moving, but she’s dead, forever stuck in her sixteen year old body. He knows that. Her face is pale, her brown, long hair framing her translucent skin. Her hazel eyes are no longer the warm brown it used to be, the emerald green in them no longer sparkle. Her eyes are a cloudy white, her pupils are dilated. She’s dressed in red, a long, formless dress draped over her body, covering her from neck down. She smiles at him, a smile that used to make his heart stop, splutter and beat passionately. Now it was beating much faster for a different reason…  
  
“Gerard,” she calls.  
  
She drifts closer towards him, and Gerard notices the red and angry slashes on her wrists. Blood is still dripping from those wounds. Gerard tries to run, but his legs are rooted to the spot. He feels as though his feet have been shackled, and nothing he can do will save him. He trembles, shaking as she nears him.  
  
“Gerard,” she says again. She’s so close that he can smell her putrid breath, stinking of rotting flesh.  
  
“I’m waiting for you.”   
  
Gerard’s mouth opened in a silent scream, and he stuffed his clenched fists in between his lips, his teeth biting down on his knuckles as he shot upright in bed. He had to be quiet, he didn’t want to wake Frank… The fear zigzagged upwards like acid through his spine, and he shuddered, folding over as he gagged, and tried to breathe. He could still smell _her_ … He clutched his hand and placed it over his heart, feeling his heartbeat thumping wildly, like a terrified bird trying to break free from its cage.  
  
As his heart slowed, Gerard looked at Frank’s sleeping form beside him. Frank’s frame was tangled in the blue cotton blanket they had been sharing, his black hair falling over his eyes. Gerard shivered violently as a cold breeze blew through the window, but he made no attempt to try to take half of the blanket from Frank. The pallid moonlight danced on Frank’s face, accentuating the dark shadows under his eyes. Frank was a very light sleeper, and he had been kept awake by Gerard’s dreams for the past few nights.  
  
“Gee…” Gerard froze. Frank’s lips moved, and he mumbled, turning away from Gerard with a small frown on his face. Gerard felt surprised and relieved when he saw that Frank was still sleeping, oblivious to his terror.  
  
“Frankie,” Gerard sighed, whispering. Some part of him wished that Frank was awake, so that he would comfort Gerard, cuddle him, kiss him… but it was better this way. Frank needed his rest. Gerard leaned over, kissing Frank on his cheek as he tenderly brushed Frank’s hair away from his brow. Then, he lifted himself carefully off the bed, tip-toeing to the bedside table, his hand reaching out for his packet of Marlboros.  
  
His hand stopped in mid-air as a shrill ring shattered the silence of the night.  
  
“FUCK.” Gerard cursed under his breath. His eyes travelled back to the bed where Frankie lay… expecting to see Frankie roused and rubbing his eyes in annoyance… but his lover slept on.  
  
Gerard stared, slightly perturbed that Frankie was still sleeping. The phone continued to ring, urgently and piercingly, and Gerard shook his head, and made his way out of the bedroom as quickly and quietly as possible.  
  
“Fucking morons… of all fucking times…” Gerard gazed at the grandfather’s clock in the corner of the room. The green luminous dial read 4.00 a.m. He sighed as he swiftly picked up the call. Well, crime never takes a break…  
  
“Way,” Agent Way barked into the phone. The sound of static met his voice. It jumped, and the droning increased. Gerard heard nothing else but the annoying buzz.  
  
“Hello.” Agent Way tried again, frustrated.  
  
The buzzing suddenly ceased.  
  
“Hi, Gerard.” The familiar, saccharine quality of the voice, the way it sounded so smooth and calm, and yet so high pitched at the same time was like a punch in Agent Way’s face.  
  
Gerard’s throat went dry. His mouth opened and closed as his lips tried to form the words that would not come. He felt as though he had been struck by lightning over and over again as his mind stumbled over the stone in his pathway of reason. Finally…  
  
“… Lizzie?”


	5. Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard has reached the end of his tether.

 

_Two months later_  
  
Gerard heard the pitter-patter of rainfall on the roof, and stared blankly out of the window. Lightning flashed across the sky.  
  
 _One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi..._  
  
He heard the roar of thunder overhead as he flicked the ashes of his cigarette into an ashtray before snuffing it out. A quick glance at the clock revealed that it was four in the afternoon. He stretched, feeling the kinks in his neck ease and he sighed in relief.  
  
He stood up from the black leather sofa and went into the bedroom, picking up the three letters he had written.  
  
 _Ray. Frank. Bob._  
  
He hesitated before heading towards the kitchen table, where he had left the single red rose that he had picked up from the florist. His fingers brushed the soft velvet petals as he wandered back to the sofa, dazed.  
  
The florist had told him that a single red rose in the language of flowers meant “I love you”.  
  
He had scoffed and replied, “How could a flower _mean_ anything? It’s fragile, fleeting…”  
  
The elderly woman had simply smiled and cut him off half-rant, “Exactly like how love is. Because it is so vulnerable… It is precious.”  
  
He had gone quiet for a moment before smiling at the florist and paying for the flower.  
  
He was arranging the letters on the coffee-table, and placing the rose over Frank’s letter when a strong sense of déjà vu hit him.  
  
He laughed bitterly.  
  
Without even realising it, he was re-enacting his dream again.  
  
He stumbled back to the sofa, suddenly feeling extremely fatigued. He drew his gun and released the safety catch. His breath caught, and he glanced at the corner of the living room, half-expecting to see the apparition of Lizzie again.  
  
But there was _nothing._  
  
He had _enough_ of it already.  
  
He was sick of having the same dream over and over again, sick of waking up, screaming and crying every night, sick of worrying his lover. He was sick of the phone-calls that came at night. Sick of the fear that struck him whenever he heard Lizzie’s voice. Sick of telling himself over and over again that whatever he was seeing or hearing was **fake** even though it felt so _**real**_. He was sick of the hallucinations bleeding into his reality. He couldn’t even tell the difference between them anymore.  
  
He had **enough**.  
  
He smiled as he calmly pressed the barrel of the gun against his temple.  
  
“You win, Lizzie.”  
  
He squeezed the trigger.


	6. Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray and Frank find Gerard...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Five Finger Death Punch - Far From Home
> 
> The memories of shadows, ink on the page  
> And I can't seem to find my way home

 

  
Frank stumbled onto the porch, his right arm wrapped around his groceries as he fumbled for his keys with his left hand. He cursed as his keys slipped out of his hands. Then he realized that he didn’t need his keys anymore.  
  
Gerard had gotten a new state-of-the-art security system installed for the house. Frank pressed his forefinger against the biometric screen, and then quickly keyed in the numerical password. The door swung open as Frank bent down awkwardly to prevent the groceries from falling out of the paper bag and picked up the keys he had dropped on the floor.  
  
The numerical password was a fail-safe just in case, Agent Way had told him solemnly. In case someone cut off his finger and tried to enter the house. Frank was mid-way through laughing when he realized that his boyfriend was deadly serious. He shivered at the thought.  
  
Sometimes, he felt like he was dating two people… Agent Way and Gerard. He loved them both, his loving, warm and passionate Gerard; and Agent Way; his responsible, protective, but sometimes emotionless and intimidating boyfriend. Agent Way scared him sometimes… but he was proud of his boyfriend. **His** smart and sexy Gerard, **his** capable, brave and brilliant FBI agent.  
  
“Gee, I bought your favourite ice-cream! Dark chocolate delight! ” Frank called out cheerfully. “I invited Bob and Ra…”  
  
He stopped in mid-sentence when he smelled the metallic tang of blood.  
  
Gerard had once tried to describe the smell of blood to Frankie.  
  
 _Overpowering. Nauseating. It oozes through every pore of your body, as though you are drinking it,_ Gerard had said.  
  
Frankie hadn’t understood what Gerard had meant. Sure, Frank had hurt himself many times. An accidental cut, scrapes on his knees… He knew how blood smelled like. Metallic, bitter... He even knew the taste of it, when he had instinctively sucked on his bleeding finger after he had accidentally cut it while working with the knife in the kitchen. But **this**. _This_ was different. This was a _thousand_ times worse. Gerard had said that blood, copious amounts of it, smelled different.  
  
Frank finally understood what Gerard had meant.  
  
The smell of fresh, rapidly cooling and congealing blood crushed his senses. Dazed, his eyes watered, and he gasped. Every breath felt like he was being submerged in blood, and the stench was so strong he could _taste_ it.  
  
Gerard was lying, wide-eyed and spread-eagled on the sofa… His gun was lying on the floor. _The blood._ **_So much blood._** Blood _everywhere_. Blood trickling down his smooth pale face, from his temples where he had shot himself… from his lips… Blood splattered on the black leather sofa, the coffee-table…  
  
His _eyes._. Oh, his eyes. Gerard’s beautiful hazel eyes. They were empty, void… the golden flecks that danced in his eyes when light hit them were gone…  
  
His smile, his dazzling and loving smile… _Gone._  
  
Frank didn’t even realize that he had started screaming.

 

  
Ray had been early when he reached Gerard’s house. His stomach had been growling and he had been anticipating the feast Frank was going to prepare. It didn’t feel right to eat the food that Frank slaved over without contributing to it, and so Ray had arrived earlier to help Frank in the kitchen.  
  
The thought of food vanished from his mind the moment he heard the screaming.  
  
Jesus, _the screaming_. Ray knew he’ll never forget it. The ear-splitting, heart-wrenching screaming. Pain, anger and sorrow bled through the scream, resonating through the air like singing crystal. He shuddered, the scream curling through his toes, a full-on jolt through the spine.  
  
“Gerard!! NO!!!”  
  
The sound of his partner’s name jerked him into action. Horrified, his heart wrenching in terror, Ray stumbled over the pavement, propelling the metal gate open hastily. He smashed his finger quickly on the biometrix screen before keying in the numbers – Gerard had entered his identity into the security system a week ago. Just in case, Gerard had said.  
  
His stomach twisted as he took in the scene… His partner, dead, his ivory face handsome even in death. Blood everywhere. Frank was curled up in a ball on the floor, screaming. Ray felt his emotions explode, could feel them blowing up in his face. Wrath, sorrow, anguish… He gritted his teeth, calming himself. Deep breathes, he told himself.  
  
 _Like what Gerard had always told him._  
  
He blinked back the assault of tears.  
  
 **Get a fucking grip on your emotions, Ray. Get into action. _NOW._**  
  
He could almost hear Gerard say the words again, a ghostly whisper against his ear. He blinked again, wiping away the traitorous tears that had slid past his cheeks.  
  
He crammed the emotional part of him into a ball, tossing it into the back of his mind. Letting the analytical part, the FBI agent, take over, his eyes raked over Gerard… no, the body lying prostrate over the black leather sofa. Everything else was neat and in place, with no signs of a struggle.  
  
The curl of Gerard’s stiff fingers seemed to suggest that he had used a weapon. Ray’s eyes drifted to the floor. The gun was lying on the ground, its presence almost mocking. His heart sank when he saw the envelopes and a red rose neatly arranged on the coffee table. The envelopes were addressed to him, Bob and Frank.  
  
Possibly suicide.  
  
 _Why Gerard… Why??_  
  
The ball at the back of his mind threatened to explode, and he struggled to keep himself composed.  
  
 _Talk to the witness._  
  
Ray went over to the sobbing Frank. He wrapped his arms around the smaller man. All at once, Frank thrashed violently in Ray’s arms, kicking and punching, howling and screaming for Gerard.  
  
“GERARD, GERARD!!” He wept, every word tearing at Ray’s heart. Ray felt the anguish emanating from Frank and choked back tears as he held Frank.  
  
“Frank! Frank!!” Ray shouted, “Look at me!” Ray grabbed both of Frank’s arms as Frank tried to hit him in the eye.  
  
“HE’S GONE, FRANK! HE’S GONE!”  
  
“NO!!! HE’S NOT!” Frank kicked out at Ray and he sprawled, falling backwards. “HE’S… ST..”  
  
Ray scrambled to his feet, catching the shorter man as Frank dropped to the ground in a dead faint.


	7. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard leaves Frank, Ray and Bob... reeling in shock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AFI - Prelude
> 
> This is what I thought,  
> I thought you need me,  
> This is what I thought so think me naïve,  
> I promise you a heart you'd promise to keep,  
> Kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep.
> 
> 30 Seconds to Mars - From Yesterday
> 
> He's a stranger to some and a vision to none  
> He can never get enough, get enough of the one

 

  
Bob was with Frank when the doctor said that Frank had fainted because he had gone into psychological shock. Bob had stared at the fucking prick in mute incredulity.  
  
 _Oh really???_  
  
He couldn’t tell.  
  
 _Ha-bloody-ha._  
  
Of course that would happen… Frank had just seen his boyfriend’s dead body in such a manner for fuck’s sake, what was he expecting? The doctor then went on to preach about traumatic events, and how Frank should let go of Gerard, and get on with life blah blah blah. Then the bastard told Bob that the support from friends and family members was important to Frank at this point, to prevent him from getting PTSD.  
  
Bob almost punched the doctor in the face.  
  
He didn’t need the doctor to tell him that.  
  
He had lost Gerard, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to lose Frank as well.  


Ray was tired.  
  
He missed Gerard… he missed his snarky partner. He missed the constant banter, Gerard’s relentless sarcasm and sharp wit. Ray couldn’t believe that it had been five years already since they had started out as partners. Gerard had been impossible to be friends with from the beginning. He had lived up to his nickname of Lucifer… he was aloof and unapproachable and had made Ray feel extremely unwelcome. Of course, Gerard’s astonishing aptitude with words never failed to make Ray feel incredibly stupid.  
  
The numerous battles they had over Ray’s rashness – or as Gerard succinctly put it, _his injudicious inability to think with his brain_ – made Ray hate Gerard with every inch of his soul.  
  
Until the day Gerard saved his life by shoving him out of the way of the car of a fleeing suspect and then yelling for hours at Ray for his _inconceivable incompetence in paying attention to his surroundings_ , and Ray finally realized that Gerard did really mean the best for him, no matter how much the infuriating bastard tried to deny it. That incident opened Ray’s eyes… he gradually learnt to appreciate Gerard’s sharp tongue and candor, even the dry humor in his sarcastic words. Soon, Ray was able to respond to Gerard’s ill comments more adequately. Instead of snarling in response to Gerard’s non-too-subtle offensive remarks, Ray gradually managed to be able to smirk, ignore Gerard, or come back with a well-placed insult.  
  
Gerard, albeit unwillingly, became his best friend. And Frank became the little brother that Ray never had.  
  
It had been only three weeks after Gerard’s suicide, and it felt like it happened so long ago. Everything had changed.  
  
The day Ray brought Frank back to his home after he was discharged from the hospital, Ray had watched as Frank curled into a ball in his bed and slept, his face child-like and vulnerable.  
  
Ray then headed home and came back the next morning.  
  
He had found Frank sitting in a daze on the floor of the living room, staring brokenly at the leather sofa Gerard had been found on, hot tears flooding his cheeks. Frank’s wrists had angry red slashes, blood oozing from the wounds and dripping on the floor. A razor had been thrown carelessly on the ground.  
  
After that, both Ray and Bob agreed that Frank needed some time away from the house.  
  
Ray took Frank home with him. Frank had nightmares almost every night, and Ray watched over him. Sometimes when he woke up from a bad dream, Frank would twist himself into a foetal position and weep furiously into the covers, and Ray would crawl into bed with him, holding Frank gently and quietly until he fell asleep again. Other times, Frank would just lie in bed and mutter the same words, over and over again... “Why, Gerard? Why?”  
  
Frank looked so wretched and miserable that Ray couldn’t bring himself to tell him the truth.  
  
*  
  
Ray stretched, letting out an ear-splitting yawn. His jaw cracked and he winced. He shoved a mug under the coffee dispenser as he pressed the buttons of the machine. He waited patiently for the machine to give him his morning fix.  
  
Black bliss. He sniffed the beverage appreciatively, then picked up the heavenly brew and walked out of the pantry.  
  
“…psychological trauma and hallucinations. The fucking faggot deserved it. Good riddance!!”  
  
Ray watched as an enraged Bob socked Agent Black in the eye. He dumped the mug on his table and quickly joined his other colleagues in dragging the two brawling agents apart.  
  
“Gerard was a better man than you, you fucking homophobe!” Bob snarled, struggling frantically as Trohman and Hurley held him back.  
  
Black spat across the room as Wentz pulled his hand back and Stump grabbed him by the waist.  
  
“He was nothing but a two-faced bastard!”  
  
“You bloody sonofabitch…” Bob made another attempt to push the two agents away from him, his face turning a boiling red.  
  
“ **SHUT UP!** ” Ray screamed furiously at the two agents. “HE’S **DEAD** , FOR FUCK’S SAKE, SHOW HIM SOME _**FUCKING RESPECT**_!”  
  
Black made an irate noise in his throat, and Ray stomped over to him, grabbing him by the collar.  
  
“You ungrateful bastard.” And then he dropped his voice in a menacing whisper that was just loud enough for the surrounding agents to hear.  
  
“Do you know why Gerard wanted you off the Corey case? He knew,” Ray shook Black by the collar, emphasizing his words as Black sputtered, “He knew you were going to fabricate evidence. He knew you were desperate enough to do anything to save your son. Did you know that the Corey bastard knew it too? Gerard protected you, you _asshole_. If you had stayed on the case and falsified evidence, you and your son would both be in jail now. And your son would have had a longer jail sentence if Corey’s defence lawyers managed to throw out all the evidence we had because you tampered with it, you know that you **imbecile**?”  
  
“Gerard worked _even harder_ on the case for you, and your son would have been rotting in jail,” Ray spat, “for the rest of his life, instead of the five years he got, if it wasn’t for Gerard.”  
  
Black was silent, his face pensive as he took in Ray’s words.  
  
Bob shrugged his arms away from Trohman and Hurley, holding out both his palms in a calming gesture that meant that he was not about to hit Black again. Ray spun around, facing the rest of the agents, and continued with his words.  
  
“Gerard may not have been the nicest person around and he may not always have done the correct thing. He was **fifteen** for fuck’s sake. But don’t you ever dare dismiss the good that he has done for the unit and for all of you!” Ray pointed, jabbing the air.  
  
“I know for a fact that Gerard has never let anyone in the unit down. No matter how much he may bitch and complain, he has never turned down any request from any of you. I’m not asking you to praise him or worship him now, all I’m asking you is to respect what he has done for our unit, respect the fact that he was a good agent, a brilliant mind and remember him for the good. Whatever he did wrong, he’s gone now. Show him some respect and **stop** insulting the memory of a dead man!”  
  
With a final hiss, Ray turned on his heels and stomped out of the office.


	8. Ray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray reads his letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Muse - Falling Away with You
> 
> I can feel my world crumbling  
> I can feel my life crumbling  
> I can feel my soul crumbling away  
> And falling away  
> Falling away with you

 

 

   
Ray clenched his right fist in anger, slamming it hard against the nondescript wall. The pain ricocheted through his fingers as he punched the wall again. Gritting his teeth, he leaned his forehead against the wall and breathed deeply. He wanted to scream at someone, hurt someone, do **anything** else… anything else to distract him from the rampant gossip flying about in the unit about Gerard’s death. Black, that stupid, _ungrateful_ little fucker probably wasn’t the only one happy about Gerard’s death.  
  
Every single word he heard, every single nasty comment or insult about Gerard hurt Ray.  
  
He hated that every single one of them didn’t know Gerard at all, and yet insulted his memory. He hated that most of them thought that he deserved to die. He hated that most of them had based Gerard's life on _one single mistake_ and dismissed the rest of it. Dismissed the cases Gerard had solved, dismissed Gerard's brilliant work at criminal profiling. He hated that none of them acknowledged what Gerard had done for the unit.  
  
Ray glowered angrily at the wall.  
  
His best friend didn’t deserve this.  
  
He sighed, sitting on the steps of the stairwell, frustrated. He wavered before reaching into his pocket. He took out the last letter that Gerard had left him, smoothing out the creases. No foul play had been detected and Gerard’s case had been closed and classified as a suicide. The final letters that Gerard had written had been returned to Ray and Bob last week. Bob was still holding onto Frank’s letter.  
  
They both decided that soon, they would give the letter to Frank. Frank had been slowly recovering after Gerard’s death, but both of them knew that the letter would devastate and shatter Frank – whatever little was left of him after Gerard had killed himself.  
  
Ray sighed again. There was nothing he could do about it. He opened Gerard’s letter, traced the familiar scratching on the paper and read it again.  
  
 _Ray,_  
  
 _I’m sure that all my letters have been read by you and most people in our unit… but well, that was not unexpected. I’m relieved in a way, actually._  
  
 _No more secrets between us now, Ray._  
  
 _I’ve known you for so many years… you’ve always told me how you admired my “criminal profiling abilities”. Well my dear partner, it should be obvious to you now why I have been able to excel. I know what these monsters feel and can predict what they will do easily because I’m one of them too._  
  
 _Takes one to know one, eh?_  
  
 _You’re a kind, understanding man… and I know that whatever I have done, you will forgive me. You might even be able to sympathize with me. I’m not looking for pity or acceptance though. I’m unsure as to whether I’m ashamed of what I have written in my letters. I know I’m ashamed of what I have done in the past, ashamed of taking the coward’s way out of things now… But I’m not ashamed of admitting the feelings that I’ve harbored for the past twenty years. Guilt, fear, pain, anger, misery… However, I think it doesn’t matter to me now that you’re reading this. I’m already dead, and after all, a dead man can feel nothing, can he?_  
  
 _I remember the first time we met. First thing I said to you was “I imagine that coiffure of yours has given you much points in stealth?” and then you said to me just as sarcastically, “I imagine your award-winning attitude has charmed many criminals into slithering right into your arms.”_  
  
 _Hilarious wasn’t it? I was an asshole, I admit. I never wanted a partner, never wanted someone else looking out for me behind my back. Always thought to myself… if I died, so be it. Hell, if I did, I deserved it anyway. Till the higher-ups forced us together. However irritated I was, I’m sure you were much more exasperated. Being Lucifer’s partner sucked, didn’t it?_  
  
 _I’m glad it all worked out though. It’s been an amazing journey, I admit. It’s been my job to be the coldblooded, pessimistic, taciturn and intimidating asshole, and your job to be the hot-headed, warm, obscenely cheerful and self-sacrificing idiot._  
  
 _I can’t remember the number of times we’ve had screaming matches at each other. You were always the reckless one I had to baby-sit, and I was the cool-headed one you wanted to strangle. Learn to keep your calm always, Ray, whatever happens in any case. It’s the one disadvantage you have. You always rush in head-first into the situation based on your **intuition** without concern for your own hide. Do you have any idea how many bloody freaking forms and reports I had to write because of your impetuousness? I can’t remember how many times I had to save your thick hide, and how many times you ended up in the hospital. And every time we closed a case, you would look at me and grin in that silly, self-satisfied way, proud and content, like a dog that has just discovered the location of a long-lost bone. And I would think to myself, “Oh dear lord, I have an overgrown puppy for a partner.”_  
  
 _Yet, the number of times you have come through for me is equally as much as the number of times I’ve saved you. Truthfully, things would have been much tougher without you._  
  
 _I’m thankful that however pathetic I am, however unworthy of what little pleasures or rewards in life that I have gotten, I have found friendship in you and Bob, and love in Frankie. It’s been a pleasure and an honor being your partner and your friend. Take care of yourself._  
  
 _Thank you for everything, Ray. All the best. You deserve happiness._  
  
 _Gerard_  
  
 _P.S Grow some fucking balls and ask Christa out will you? The UST between you guys is disgusting. Seriously._  
  
The edge of Ray’s lips twitched into the remnants of a smile.  
  
His partner was really an evil bastard sometimes.  
  
Ray missed Gerard with all his heart and soul.


	9. Shattered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank is trying to cope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Within Temptation - Fire and Ice
> 
> And I still wonder  
> Why heaven has died  
> The skies are all falling  
> I’m breathing but why?  
> In silence I hold on  
> To you and I

 

Frank’s life had been perfect. He was a successful corporate lawyer, and he was sure he was going to be offered the chance to become a shareholder of the law firm he worked in soon. He had a wonderful lover, he had loyal friends in Ray and Bob, and he was happy.  
  
Then his life shattered into a million pieces.  
  
Gerard’s death left him reeling in shock, bitter pain and anger, and he was trying to pick up the pieces and build up his life again, slowly.  
  
There were good days and bad days.  
  
There were days when Frank woke up, thought of Gerard, and was able to smile and carry on with his life.  
  
He could count the number of good days with three fingers.  
  
Then there were days when it felt like Gerard had betrayed him. He raged and cursed and swore at the man who had left him behind in the world. There were days he wished, wished so hard with all his heart and soul that he would wake up and Gerard would still be alive, and that he would be lying next to Frank on the bed in the morning, greeting him with a lazy smile and a soft, tender kiss.  
  
And then there were those days when he felt so empty… like everything had lost its meaning. Like the ground bled into the sky, and the entire landscape was bleak and grey and there was nothing ahead, nothing to look forward to. There were days when he woke up screaming and crying for Gerard, missing him so much it felt like his heart was about to rip apart from all the pain and agony that was consuming him from the inside, the blackness twisting painfully in his chest, like ivy stretching mercilessly over a crumbling wall. There were days when it felt like he was trapped in a glass enclosure with no way to escape and was pounding away at its surface, terrified and screaming with agony and yet no one could hear him, no one could see him… and no one could understand him. There were days when Frank was so helpless and weak against the onslaught of memories he and Gerard shared that he couldn’t stop crying, days when his heart ached so fiercely that he couldn’t breathe, days when he felt like a flickering candle struggling to stay lighted in a raging thunderstorm, days when he felt like he was going to die any moment.  
  
Frank was trying to cope. He really was.  
  
**  
  
Frank had been 10 years old when his sister died.  
  
He felt guilty that she wasn’t on his mind all the time, but whenever he thought of her, he had missed her. She was beautiful, the best sister in the world he could ever hope for. Kind, sweet and thoughtful. Brown hair, hazel-green eyes… But that was all he could remember of her. Her facial features were a shadowy haze in his memories. He couldn’t remember her voice, couldn’t remember her laugh, couldn’t remember her warm embrace…  
  
He was terrified.  
  
What if one day he couldn’t remember Gerard’s face anymore? His eyes… his soft hazels, the playful golden flecks dancing in them whenever he teased Frank. He didn’t want to forget the way Gerard’s face felt like when Frank’s fingers brushed his face and brought it close to kiss him. The sharp contours of his jaw, the pale smooth skin that was occasionally interrupted by the prickly presence of his five-o-clock shadow. The way it felt whenever Frank tangled his fingers into Gerard’s hair, silky and smooth. The way Gerard’s tears tasted like the ocean and sea whenever Frank leaned in to comfort him and kiss his tears and pain away. The way Gerard smiled, the way only one side of his smooth, pink lips curled up in a playful smirk as though he was sharing a secret with Frank… The way he grinned at Frank, as though everything else in the world did not matter, only **Frank** did.  
  
What if he forgot Gerard’s voice? Loving, soft and smooth like velvet as he spoke to Frank. The sexy, low, dulcet and dangerous tone Gerard used whenever he wanted to seduce Frank, knowing that that particular tenor made Frank’s knees weak in desire. The way Gerard sounded like whenever Frank pleasured or fucked him, full of wanton desire, want and raw need. Raspy and dry whenever Gerard woke up from sleep, rubbing his eyes and grumpy as fuck till he got his morning coffee. Sharp and harsh like a whip whenever he was angry, his eyes raging wildly, cruel and unforgiving. Sarcastic and dry whenever he made a joke, the edges of his lips twitching faintly in amusement. Light and carefree whenever Gerard was happy, faint little creases at the edges of his eyes.  
  
What if he forgot the way it felt like when Gerard embraced him, his warm, smooth skin against his own, his arms tight around his waist, Frank’s ear pressed against his chest? What if he forgot the way Gerard’s heartbeat sounded like? What if he forgot the way Gerard’s heartbeat felt like under his hands? The way it felt like Gerard was the only thing anchoring him to this world, the way it felt like Gerard loved him more than anything else in the world?  
  
Frank was terrified of losing the only thing of Gerard he had left – his memories.


	10. Frank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank finally gets his letter...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Within Temptation - What Have You Done
> 
>  
> 
> Would you mind if I hurt you?  
> Understand that I need to  
> Wish that I had other choices  
> than to harm the one I love
> 
> What have you done now?!

Frank didn’t have much of an appetite recently, but he still cooked and ate whatever he could. He loved cooking and it calmed him. Today, he had picked at and nibbled on the salad that he had tossed together, but had given up after shoveling a few mouthfuls down his throat.  
  
The look on Bob’s face when he entered the kitchen where Frank was washing up the dishes after dinner worried him.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Frank asked, drying his hands on a towel.  
  
Bob wordlessly passed Frank a letter. Frank peered at the words and recognized the languid scrawl on the letter.  
  
“Is this… from… Gerard?” Frank choked.  
  
Bob nodded.  
  
“How…? Where?” Frank asked, caught helplessly in the onslaught of emotion.  
  
Bob just shook his head, and gestured for Frank to read the letter.  
  
Frank opened the letter and began to read it, his heart throbbing unbearably at the familiarity of the scribble across the paper…  
  
 _My dearest Frank,  
  
I’m so sorry.  
  
I know these words may seem useless… they are merely words on paper now. They’re just not enough for me to atone for my sins. But they are the only ones that I can say now. There are so many things I wish to say to you now. So many emotions I wish to convey to you… so many more I cannot put into words.  
  
I have betrayed you, Frankie. I have deceived you for the past twenty years. I wish I can tell you this face to face but I’m a fucking coward. I know you hate it when I say that, and you always tell me that I’m so brave, your brilliant FBI agent, your loving boyfriend with a big heart… But I’m not who you think I really am. I am a monster. I have been a bloody hypocrite for twenty years, and I’m sick of it all.  
  
My dear, sweet Frank… I don’t deserve your love...  
  
I know that when you have finished with this letter, you will probably hate me for leaving you. Hate me for betraying you, hate me for lying to you. I really didn’t mean to… Well, that’s another lie. I’m laughing bitterly at myself when I’m writing this but I cannot help it. I can’t stop lying, can’t I?  
  
I lied to you for twenty years, and although I have felt guilty I never said a word. I never wanted to tell you the truth. I didn’t want to lose you. But I know I cannot leave this world without telling you this. You deserve to know the truth.  
  
I was the one who raped Elizabeth Iero.  
  
I was the one who raped your sister.  
  
I was the one who caused her death.  
  
Now, you finally know me for the coldblooded monster I am.  
  
Funny how I thought I loved her back then. I was so obsessed with her. Lizzie was beautiful, intelligent, witty and everything I believed I wanted. I hungered for her so badly, but she never took a second look at me. I was so desperate… I was a callous beast. I did the unimaginable. I can still hear her screams in my head now, begging me to stop. But I never did. Oh god, I wished I did.  
  
In the beginning, I was afraid. Afraid of the consequences, of going to jail, of losing my future. I pleaded with Lizzie not to say a word, I swore to make it up to her, I promised to love her and to look after her. She had just looked at me, pale-faced, tears in her eyes and said… “Gerard… Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.” And then she told me to look after you. All I felt was relief that she wouldn’t take me to the police and that I wasn’t going to prison for the terrible thing I did to her. The respite was so profound that it didn’t occur to me that it was strange that she had told me to look after you, as though she wasn’t expecting to be able to do it herself. I didn’t think about it.  
  
I’m an egoistic bastard, aren’t I? Even though I was the one who took Lizzie’s future away without a care, I was so worried about my own, so worried that she would single-handedly destroy my future.  
  
And then a week later you told me she was gone. That she had killed herself, slashed her wrists and committed suicide in the bathroom. I couldn’t believe it. I felt so remorseful, so guilty and mortified… It turned my life inside out. I felt so unclean, so impure… so corrupt. Like no matter how many times or how hard I scrubbed myself, I would never be able to erase my sins. But I was a coward, Frank. I didn’t turn myself in, and even though there were times when I felt so ashamed, angry and guilty that I wanted to kill myself, I didn’t have the courage to.  
  
The irony was that I became an FBI agent for Lizzie. I worked hard… I threw my heart and soul into it. In a way, I guess I was seeking reparations. I wished with all my heart and soul that I could exonerate myself through solving these cases. What naivety! I foolishly thought that maybe the guilt I had would go away after I caught others like myself and helped those like Lizzie.  
  
It ached so badly every time I saw a crime of passion involving teenagers, Frankie. The darkness in me never faded away... I could feel it lurking threateningly at the corners of my mind. It whispered to me, seduced me and called to me. Somehow, every crime I worked on worsened my compunctions. It hurt more that I was good at it… It hurt more that I understood the way the villains behind these crimes of passion thought. The reason why I understood them, how I could comprehend their motives and how they would act, was that I was a monster… just like them. Every praise or compliment for my work felt like a fucking slap to my face. A constant reminder that I was a beast.  
  
I knew I deserved it though.  
  
Then, when you and I fell in love… I was so afraid to lose you, Frankie. There have been moments when I would look at you and be overcome with so much fear that my heart would freeze up as though it would stop beating the next second. I was so terrified that I would wake up from this wonderful dream and you would know the truth, stop loving me and hate me.  
  
Remember the Rachel Phillips case? The similarities between Rachel and Lizzie are immense. The boy we caught… He reminded me of myself. My younger, monstrous self. I guess that’s why the nightmares started. Every night I would dream of killing myself… and then I would see Lizzie, beautiful and deadly, in my dreams. She would tell me that she’s waiting for me. And the phonecalls at night – I hear her voice over the phone. She has called many times already, telling me that it’s time for me to keep my promise to look after her. Every night I cry and beg her to let me stay with you, to look after you, to love you. And every night she tells me the same thing – that I don’t deserve you.  
  
Perhaps I’m having a psychological breakdown. But the dreams and phone calls feel so **real**. I keep telling myself that they aren’t, that they are a figment of my imagination but my dreams and reality have bled into each other so much so that I’m unable to discriminate between them anymore.  
  
I’m so tired of it, Frank. I’m tired of lying to you, tired of all this guilt… Tired of the constant fear of losing you.  
  
This is the only way I know how to let everything go.  
  
I’m so sorry, Frank. I never meant to hurt you… But I know no matter what I do or say now, I will hurt you. I don’t expect you to forgive me. I know you never will… If our positions were reversed, I would hate me. Whatever you feel after reading this letter, please know that I love you. I love the way you kiss me, the way you touch me, the way you hug me, the way you smile, the way you laugh, the way you comfort me… I will always love you, and these words were never a lie when I said it to you. NEVER. Loving you has been my only reality all these years, my only solace. My life has been full of regrets and mistakes, but the one thing I never regretted was loving you. You were the best thing that ever happened to me. I beg you, please remember that, and please don’t doubt my love for you.  
  
Take care of yourself, Frankie. I will always love you.  
  
I will find my way home to you one day.  
  
Yours forever,  
Gerard_  
  
The roaring in Frank’s ears deafened him as the world that he had tried to carefully piece together splintered into a million pieces … _again_.


	11. Situation: FUBAR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bob deals with the backlash of Frank's fury.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adele - Set Fire to the Rain
> 
> 'Cause there's a side to you that I never knew, never knew  
> All the things you'd say, they were never true, never true  
> And the games you'd play, you would always win, always win
> 
> But I set fire to the rain  
> Watched it pour as I touched your face  
> Let it burn while I cried  
> 'Cause I heard it screaming out your name, your name

The few minutes that Frank took to read the letter was an excruciating wait. Bob felt like a prisoner waiting for judgment to be passed, and he knew that it was going to be a death sentence.  
  
Situation: **FUBAR**.  
  
Both he and Ray had wanted to protect Frank. After Gerard’s death, Frank had been crushed and traumatized beyond words. They knew that Frank was tethering at the edge of sanity, and the truth would push him over and kill him. Bob knew that their choice to keep the truth from Frank for a short while, at least till he was slightly better, had not been wrong… but it hadn’t been entirely right either.  
  
He was guilt-ridden as hell.  
  
“How long?”  
  
“What?” Bob asked carefully.  
  
“How long have you known?” Frank repeated, his face blank.  
  
Bob bit his lip hard as the silence between them grew.  
  
“ **HOW LONG HAVE YOU KNOWN THAT GERARD WAS THE ONE WHO RAPED MY SISTER?** ” Frank howled, grabbing a plate and smashing it at the wall next to Bob.  
  
Bob flinched when he felt a flying glass shard brush his face as the plate shattered into pieces, but made no move to avoid it. A trail of warm blood dripped slowly down his cheek. Bob sighed resignedly.  
  
“Since _that_ day itself.” Bob said softly.  
  
Silence.  
  
Then…  
  
“Get the fuck out of my house.” The words were soft, but felt like a whip-lash through the air across his face. Bob winced at the impact.  
  
“Frank...” Bob started.  
  
“ **GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE NOW!!** ” Frank roared furiously, smashing another plate at the wall near Bob.  
  
Bob was no coward… he had never run away from any situation, never retreated from any ugly scene in all his years on the team as an FBI agent. But he fled like one after he saw the tormented and betrayed look on Frank’s face. He felt like a total asshole. The tears on Frank’s face made him feel remorseful as hell. He really hadn’t meant to hurt Frank.  
  
Bob finally understood the meaning behind the phrase – “the road to hell is paved with good intentions.”  
  
*  
  
 _The day Gerard killed himself_  
  
Bob’s partner, Pete, was standing at the door of Gerard’s house. The yellow tape across the door screamed **CRIME SCENE DO NOT CROSS**.  
  
 _Why the fuck did they have to use yellow of all colours?_  
  
Yellow was a bright and cheerful color. Even kids knew that. There was one case Bob had worked on where one of the suspects was a teacher and they had gone to the school to bring him back to the Bureau for investigation. The walls of the school were decorated by many pictures drawn by the kids. Pictures of their families, gardens, buildings, monsters etc... Yellow was a colour used rather frequently in their drawings. The kids used it to draw stuff like the sun, flowers… good things mostly.  
  
Bob felt sickened at the sight of the yellow crime scene tape. Red was a better colour, really. Then Bob thought of the fact that red was the colour of blood, and his stomach flipped.  
  
“You really shouldn’t go in there,” Pete said quietly to Bob. Bob’s heart sank. He had hoped that the phone call had been a terrible mistake, and that Gerard wasn’t…  
  
Bob let out a distraught sound at the thought of it. He made an attempt to enter the house but Pete turned to block his way in. Bob tried to push Pete away, but Pete remained solid and unmoving against the door, his arms flat out on Bob’s chest.  
  
“Pete, please,” Bob begged, leaning against Pete, his head resting heavily on Pete’s shoulders. He felt as though all the fight had gone out of him. “Please… I need… I need to see this.”  
  
“Bob…” Pete hesitated at the broken expression in his partner’s face.  
  
Pete knew that Bob was in love with Gerard. He probably loved that cruel bastard more than anyone else. Gerard, that infuriating asshole, probably didn’t know anything about it. He friend-zoned Bob. What made things worse was that Bob knew Gerard’s boyfriend too. Pete wondered how hard it must be for Bob sometimes, especially since he had seen the nauseatingly loving way Frank and Gerard behaved in front of Bob at times. And Gerard’s final wish… It really was really quite cruel of the man to request such a thing from Bob. Pete sighed at his friend’s beseeching expression, shook his head and moved away from the door.  
  
Bob half-walked and half-stumbled to the living room. He hardly noticed the fact that Pete was following him worriedly from the back. Spencer, one of the crime scene investigators on scene looked up from the body and frowned. He opened his mouth and started to say something to Bob, but Pete shook his head at him. Casting a hasty look at Bob’s expression, Spencer cocked his head in understanding and moved away from Gerard.  
  
There was a sudden flash in the room and Ryan, another CSI, looked up from where he had been taking a photo of the bullet casing lying on the floor. He saw the look of unease on Spencer’s face, the devastated look on Bob’s face, Pete’s stern expression and quickly comprehended the situation.  
  
“Uhm… we’ll give you guys some space then. We’re done here anyway.” Ryan picked up the crime scene photo scale which he had placed next to the bullet casing for documentation purposes. He picked up the casing with a pair of forceps before placing it in a paper envelope which he subsequently sealed, and then signed on the sealed area of the envelope with brisk efficiency. He nodded at Bob, who was staring so intensely at Gerard that he did not seem to have heard what Ryan had said. Ryan shrugged and pulled Spencer away from the living room.  
  
“I don’t understand. **FUCK**. Why, Gerard? You stupid bastard.” Bob choked out as he took in Gerard’s inert form on the black sofa. He balled his hands into fists so tightly that his nails sunk deeply in his palms. He wanted to scream.  
  
Pete placed a warm, reassuring hand on Bob’s shoulder. The silent comfort from his comrade seemed to have jerked free the boulder that Bob had placed in his mind to stem the sorrow and agony that threatened to crush him. His eyes burned violently with the blitzkrieg of emotions as he finally gave in to the tears.  
  
He cried for the friend he loved... and for the lover he never had.  
  
*  
  
“You should see these,” Pete said. “Gerard wrote one to you,” Pete added as an afterthought.  
  
Bob pulled on some latex gloves as he took the letters from Pete.  
  
“You should read Frank’s letter first,” Pete said gently. “Gerard would have wanted you to.”  
  
Bob raised an eyebrow at that comment. Upon his friend’s continual insistence, Bob scanned the letter addressed to Frank, feeling a twinge of guilt at this blatant invasion of his friend’s privacy. His eyes widened as he read the letter.  
  
“Oh **bloody** hell. This is all kinds of fucked up.”  
  
“Quite,” Pete replied.  
  
Bob’s head was spinning in circles as he pulled his own letter on top of Frank’s.  
  
 _Bob,  
  
I have always viewed your friendship as something very precious, and sometimes it still amazes me that you have given it to me. God knows why.  
  
From the start, we were never friends, more of acquaintances, colleagues and fellow agents. We never really had the chance to interact with each other, except when working on cases. I respected you, and you endured my presence.  
  
At the moment when I shot your father three years ago, it occurred to me that your friendship and what little good opinion (or none) you had of me would be lost forever. I did what I had to. I have never regretted stepping in, but I have regretted killing the man who was your father. For that, Bob, I am really sorry.  
  
I’ve watched you struggle with the demise of your father, watched you come to terms with the perfidy from the man who was your father, the betrayal of the worst sort from someone who had watched you grow up, from someone who had loved you, and from someone whom you respected. I watched you overcome your initial aversion towards me, the man who killed your father. I never expected forgiveness, much less understanding from you… But you gave it to me all the same. Even better, you gave me your friendship. I can remember the hours you sat with me at the hospital talking to me. At first it surprised me that you could even stand to be beside me, much less talk to me, but then I realized that we both needed it. You were filled with so much hatred for your father, struggling with what he had done and tried to do to you. You were also attempting to be grateful to me for stepping in to save you, yet hating me at the same time for killing the father you loved. Gradually, things did become better. You even began turning around to comfort **me** instead and ease my guilt. You’re a strong and wise man, Bob.  
  
I wonder what you would think of me now that you know the truth. I know that you have come to respect me over the years for my opinions as a friend and expertise as a fellow agent, but what do you think of me now that you know that I have raped an innocent 16 year old and caused her death so many years ago, but failed to confess my crimes and face up to the truth? Do you feel sickened by the fact that you have given your friendship to such a sordid bastard like me? I can’t help but feel apprehensive about what you and Ray would be feeling right now… you have both been wonderful friends to me, no matter how unworthy of your friendship I was. I imagine that both of you must be feeling very shocked, maybe even betrayed and revolted. I admit that I am too much of a coward to go to the two of you to come clean with all my wrongdoings.  
  
Perhaps I have no right to ask you to do this, and I know that I’m being very selfish in my request. I hope that you will help Frank tide through this period of time. I know that you're the only one can do this for him. I have deceived Frank, Bob, in the worst manner ever possible, and the only worry I have left in this world, is Frank. I know that this would be very difficult for him. I know that this would destroy his world and crush his soul. He’s naïve at times, and I know that he sees the world in black and white. I cannot fault him for this… it is a flaw, yet it is a redeeming quality in itself because it undoubtedly means that he knows not the ugliness of the world. The two of us are agents and have seen enough to know better than that, but I cannot expect this of him. I don’t expect him to forgive me for what I have done, but to at least understand that I am very remorseful for what I have done to both him and Elizabeth, but I have never regretted loving him. I implore you, my friend, please help him. You are the only one I know who’s strong enough to help him overcome this betrayal from me.  
  
For what it’s worth, Bob, you have been the greatest friend anyone could ever have. I’m thankful for everything you have done for me. Take care of yourself.  
  
Gerard_  
  
Bob shoved the letters against Pete’s chest, motioning for him to take it from him before he could do anything stupid like tearing up the letters and compromising the evidence. He staggered out of the house, unconsciously stripping off the latex gloves and tossing them on the ground as he moved towards the bushes and started to dry-heave. Nothing came up but the nausea shot through his body and he could taste the acid in his mouth as his stomach contorted mercilessly. He pressed his right hand pressed against his forehead, his eyes closed against the impending headache that threatened to rock through him. He was unaware of the sympathetic glances that Pete was shooting at him as he gritted his teeth and his eyes misted over in blistering, angry tears.  
  
His unrequited love wanted him to look after his lover.  
  
 _How fucked up was that?_  
  
That irresponsible and manipulative **sonofabitch**.  
  
If Gerard had still been alive, Bob would have torn him a new one and screamed at him, “Look after your fucking lover yourself!!” The rage scorched fiercely under Bob’s skin as he thought about the helplessness of the situation. He detested being asked to do such a thing. Sure, he would have done his best to help Frank through it even if Gerard hadn’t requested it of him, but now that Gerard **had** requested it of him… he hated that he hadn’t been given a choice.  
  
It wasn’t a choice because Bob had never been able to turn down any of Gerard’s demands.  
  
What made things worse was that Gerard probably didn’t know that Bob was in love with him, and that he had unintentionally beseeched him to do such a thing. If Gerard knew, he probably wouldn’t have done it, knowing that it was being painfully cruel to Bob. And that hurt even more.  
  
Bob wondered if Gerard knew how much power he still had over him, even in death.


	12. The Truth Will Tear You Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank remembers the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rascal Flatts - What Hurts the Most
> 
> I'm not afraid to cry every once in a while even though  
> Goin' on with you gone still upsets me  
> There are days every now and again I pretend I'm okay  
> But that's not what gets me
> 
> What hurts the most  
> Is being so close  
> And havin' so much to say  
> And watchin' you walk away
> 
> It's hard to deal with the pain of losin' you everywhere I go  
> But I'm doin' it  
> It's hard to force that smile when I see our old friends and I'm alone  
> Still harder gettin' up, gettin' dressed, livin' with this regret  
> But I know if I could do it over  
> I would trade, give away all the words that I saved in my heart  
> That I left unspoken

 

 

Frank sank to his knees the moment the front door slammed shut as Bob fled the house. The roaring in his ears intensified and Frank slammed his hands over his ears in order to block out the sound. It felt like the world was collapsing around him, and he was alone – utterly and completely alone. Sobs racked through his body as he fell forward, hot tears flooding his cheeks.  
  
 _“You destroy me, Frank.” The soft, velvety whisper was followed by the faintest touch of lips to his own._  
  
Frank blinked back the tears.  
  
Gerard’s voice rang in his ears. Again and again…  
  
 _“You destroy me, Frank.”_  
  
No, Gerard, **you** destroyed _me_.  
  
*  
  
 _Frank: Age 10; Gerard: Age 15_  
  
“Gerard!” Ten-year-old Frank Iero threw himself at fifteen-year-old Gerard Way, sobbing wretchedly.  
  
“What’s wrong? There, there, don’t cry, Frankie.” Gerard wrapped his arms around the boy, hoisting him up on his hips with a little effort. He hadn’t carried the boy for a few years now since Frankie had insisted that he was older now and didn’t want to be treated like a baby anymore. However, Frankie looked so upset now and Gerard automatically slipped back into his protective older brother role.  
  
He patted the boy on his back soothingly.  
  
“She’s gone, Gerard.” The boy’s grip around Gerard’s neck tightened as he mumbled into his collarbone.  
  
“ **What?** ” Gerard asked, confused. “Who’s gone?”  
  
“Lizzie. Lizzie’s gone.”  
  
“Oh my God.”  
  
*  
  
Frank clutched Gerard’s fingers tightly like a lifeline.  
  
There were a lot of strange people about. His sister’s friends, teachers, classmates, his parents’ friends, their relatives... Some he had seen before, some he had not. They were all crowded together, silently watching the burial. Frank’s own parents stood beside Frank, grieving over their daughter. His mother wrapped an arm around Frank’s shoulders as she wept bitterly. Gerard’s parents were next to Gerard, heads bowed low in respect.  
  
Frankie was crying as he watched the coffin being lowered into the ground. He understood that Lizzie was finally at peace now… and that he would never see his loving sister again.  
  
Frank looked up at Gerard. He noticed that Gerard was pale and anxious-looking, and his face was smeared and glinting with tears under the sunlight.  
  
Gerard’s grip tightened on his as he noticed Frankie looking up at him.  
  
“What do we do now, Gerard?”  
  
A look of distress shot across the teenager’s face at those simple words. Gerard smiled down at him in the midst of his tears. He got down on one knee, opened his arms and hugged Frankie tightly.  
  
“I’ll look after you, like what I promised your sister.” Gerard whispered into his ears.  
  
“Okay.” Frank innocently replied as he snuggled into Gerard’s warm embrace.  
  
 _Frank: Age 15; Gerard: Age 20_  
  
“Frankie! Frankie! Are you still here?”  
  
Frank heard the sound of footsteps hurrying down the darkened school hallway.  
  
Frank began to hit the metal door with his fists again.  
  
“Gerard!! In here!”  
  
“Frank?” Gerard’s voice rang across the hallway in alarm and bewilderment. “Where the fuck are you?”  
  
“In the locker! 493.”  
  
Frank peered out through the thin opening of the locker. Frank was thankful that the school had ordered lockers with slits so that administrative notes could be placed into students’ lockers; otherwise he would have suffocated to death many hours ago.  
  
A pair of hazel eyes met his own across the slit, and the worry in them were automatically replaced with relief.  
  
“Oh thank God. We were all so worried about you!”  
  
“Let me out first,” Frank grumbled, “I’ve been standing up for hours!”  
  
“Give me the combination.”  
  
Gerard twisted the lock to the right, turned it to the left then back to the right again before it clicked open. He hurriedly pulled the locker door open and Frank fell weakly into his arms.  
  
“Oh my god.” Frank groaned. “I have no feeling in my legs.”  
  
Gerard supported Frank as he set him gently on the floor. He absent-mindedly began to rub the sensation back into Frank’s legs.  
  
“Gwaaah.” Frank moaned, his eyes fluttering shut at the relief that flooded into his legs. “That feels nice.”  
  
There was a cough as Gerard suddenly stopped his ministrations to Frank’s poor legs. Frank opened his eyes and caught a look of unease appearing on Gerard’s countenance.  
  
“What the hell happened?” Gerard asked distractedly.  
  
“Jocks. Assholes locked me in.” Frank made a pleading motion with his hands towards Gerard, wanting him to help rub his feet again.  
  
Gerard’s eyes narrowed in anger at the words as he continued to squeeze the calf muscles of Frank’s legs.  
  
“You provoked them?” he asked.  
  
“By existing,” Frank replied dryly. “Homophobes, the whole lot of them.”  
  
“Bastards.” Gerard offered sympathetically. “You should get your parents to make a complain.”  
  
“Nah, that’ll make things worse,” Frank nodded at Gerard. “You should know how things get in school sometimes.”  
  
Gerard nodded, but still looked uneasy.  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
Frank nodded. “I am,” he replied. “Besides, I’ve someone who will look for me after school if I go missing. At least I know that my corpse will be accounted for.” He gave Gerard a cheeky grin.  
  
Gerard rolled his eyes.  
  
“I prefer you alive, you idiot.” He smacked Frank’s forehead soundly.  
  
“Ow! What did you do that for?” Frank rubbed his forehead, complaining loudly. “I’ll be fine, Gerard, don’t be such a worry-wart.”  
  
“Tell you what,” Gerard said thoughtfully. “I’ll talk to your teacher and ask her to keep an eye on the situation, just to make sure things don’t go out of hand. How about that?”  
  
Frank frowned.  
  
“Don’t worry Frank, I won’t ask her to punish those assholes, no matter how much they deserve it.” Gerard snorted. “I’ll just ask her to make sure you’re okay.”  
  
Frank nodded reluctantly.  
  
“That’ll help, Gerard. Thanks.” He offered Gerard a shy smile.  
  
“Cmon, time to go home now. Your parents are worried.” Gerard stood up, dusting the non-existent dirt off his pants before offering Frank his hand.  
  
Frank grinned at Gerard as he took his hand. It felt warm and reassuring in his grip.  
  
 _Frank: Age 18; Gerard: Age 23_  
  
“Gerard, you’ve always been there for me. Always.”  
  
Gerard look a little confused.  
  
“Well, Frank, I promised your sister that I would look after you and I was just…”  
  
“This isn’t about Lizzie, Gerard!” Frank tapped his foot impatiently. He felt like a child throwing a freaking tantrum because his mother wasn’t going to buy a toy for him. “Please let me finish what I want to say.”  
  
Gerard raised an eyebrow questioningly, but nodded anyway.  
  
“I’ve been thinking about it a lot recently. It’s been years… We grew up together. You’ve always been there for me, fighting my battles with me. Sharing my joy with me, helping me through all the bad and the good. You were there when I needed someone to comfort me.”  
  
“All I know is that I feel for you, Gerard. I’m in love with you. And I want to know whether you feel the same.” Frank said softly.  
  
Gerard reared back in shock and his mouth widened in surprise. He turned away from Frank, but not before Frank saw the look of pure distress on his face, “Frank… I cannot…”  
  
Frank stormed up towards Gerard and spun him around to face him again.  
  
“Gerard, please don’t hide from me,” Frank begged. He tentatively lifted a hand and brushed a strand of hair gently away from Gerard’s face. He marveled at the feel of Gerard’s skin under his fingers. “Please, look at me and tell me what you really feel.”  
  
“Don’t tell me you don’t feel **this** ,” Frank emphasized, as his fingers brushed the bottom of Gerard’s lips sensually. Gerard’s lips twitched and parted unconsciously in response, and his hazel eyes clouded over with joy, pain, lust… and what looked like conflict. Frank felt a sizzling sensation shooting up his spine. He bit back a soft moan as his heart raced erratically.  
  
“… Don’t tell me you don’t feel _anything_ at all.” Frank brushed Gerard’s right cheek, his right hand thumbing the warm, soft skin.  
  
Gerard groaned in response, closing his eyes. He grabbed Frank’s hand suddenly, holding it against his cheek hesitantly.  
  
For a long, glorious moment, Frank was hopeful. Then Gerard opened his eyes and gazed right into Frank’s hazel eyes… and something which looked terribly like horror flooded onto his face and his mouth twisted ruefully.  
  
Gerard rocked backwards as though he had been slapped. He pushed Frank’s hand away, and Frank’s heart sank. He retreated and placed a safe distance in between the two of them.  
  
“I’m sorry Frank, I don’t.”  
  
 _Frank: Age 19; Gerard: Age 24_  
  
Frank was devastated when Gerard introduced his boyfriend to him.  
  
James Kroehler was perfect in every sense. He was tall with short, black hair, sharp angular features chiseled onto his face in perfect proportions and the most gorgeous pair of eyes, a startling shade of lightning-blue. What made things even better (or worse, depending on how you looked at it) was that he was rich and successful.  
  
He was everything that Frank was not.  
  
Frank **hated** him.  
  
He hated the way James Kroehler wrapped himself around Gerard’s body, the way he rested his head casually on Gerard’s shoulders. He hated the way James whispered into Gerard’s ears, hated the way Gerard blushed in embarrassment and the way he laughed at James’ jokes and light teasing.  
  
He didn’t notice the look of shamefaced relief on Gerard’s face and the faint amusement on James’ face when Frank fled from Gerard’s house.  
  
He told himself that Gerard deserved a better person than himself.  
  
He told himself to move on and give up on Gerard.  
  
But he couldn’t.  
  
He didn’t realize anything wrong until a few months later when he saw James behaving affectionately with a beautiful _girl_. When Frank furiously confronted James, he realized that it had all been an act…. Put up for his “ _benefit_ ”.  
  
 _Frank: Age 20; Gerard: Age 25_  
  
Frank was yelling at Gerard, calling him a coward for not facing up to his own emotions when Gerard snapped.  
  
“I’m not a nice man, Frank!” Gerard shouted at him “I’ve done terrible things that you’ve never even dreamed of. Loving me is the worst mistake anyone can ever make, especially you!”  
  
“What do you mean by that, Gerard?” Frank demanded, moving closer to Gerard as he shook Gerard by the shoulders.  
  
Gerard was breathing heavily, his shoulders heaving with effort as he leaned against the kitchen table. His rage was very much perceptible, and tension strung tightly between the two people in the room.  
  
Frank glared viciously at Gerard. Even though Frank was feeling furious, he couldn’t help noticing that Gerard was deadly beautiful in all his passionate anger. His pale porcelain face was taut and tense, his hazel eyes looked obsidian under the light and it was flashing dangerously. His mouth was pressed into a thin and tight line. Gerard’s cheeks were red and flushed with effort as he left out a huge sigh.  
  
“Forget I said anything.” Gerard waved a hand in mid-air wearily. “Get the **fuck** out of here before I throw you out of my house.”  
  
“I’m not leaving!” Frank snarled irately. “I’ve seen the way you looked at me, Gerard! I know you love me! And the entire fiasco with James! Why are you doing this to me?”  
  
“For God’s sake, Frank!! Stop being so fucking delusional! I’m sick of you insisting that I’m in love with you! **Fine**. You’re not leaving? Then I will.” Gerard threw his arms up in frustration as he stormed out of his own house.  
  
Frank slammed his fist into the wall. He felt the skin between his knuckles rip satisfyingly.  
  
 _Delusional?? Was he really?_  
  
Frank gritted his teeth and cursed. He was sick and tired of all this.  
  
 _Frank: Age 22; Gerard: Age 27_  
  
“I cannot love you.”  
  
“I notice that you didn’t say that you _don’t_.”  
  
Gerard snorted.  
  
“Semantics.”  
  
Frank sighed.  
  
“Why, Gerard? You owe me at least that much.”  
  
“I already told you before, Frank. I’m not a nice man. I’ve done terrible things.”  
  
“Like what?”  
  
There was a pause.  
  
“Please let me keep my own secrets, Frank. One day, you will know. And one day, you will hate me for it.” Gerard’s voice dropped to an almost-whisper.  
  
“I don’t care!” Frank replied fiercely. “I love you.” He reached up, and hooked an arm around Gerard’s neck, trying to bring him closer for a kiss.  
  
“Don’t, Frankie. You’ll regret it.” Gerard looked torn as he looked down at Frank, his arms snaking unconsciously around Frank’s waist. He didn’t seem to realize that he was bringing Frank closer towards him.  
  
 _YES! FINALLY!_  
  
Frank did a silent pump of victory. His heartbeat tripled.  
  
“I won’t.” Frank replied aggressively. “Please, Gerard.” He tilted his head upwards in anticipation, his tongue trailing over his lips.  
  
Gerard groaned softly in response. Frank caressed Gerard’s cheek tenderly, and Gerard’s eyelashes fluttered shut as he basked in the sensation of Frank’s warm touch. He could smell the cinnamon soap that Frank used on his palm.  
  
“Why are you making this so hard for me?” Gerard questioned quietly.  
  
“Why are **YOU** making this so hard for **US**?” Frank replied gently.  
  
Gerard sighed and finally gave in.  
  
“You destroy me, Frank.” The soft, velvety whisper was followed by the faintest touch of lips to his own.  
  
*  
  
“Shush… It’s okay now, Frank.” There was a familiar presence at his side. Frank felt a pair of hands rubbing up and down his back.  
  
“Deep breaths now.”  
  
Frank obeyed without thought, giving in to the demands of that reassuring voice. He concentrated on breathing, sucking in air through his lungs, and letting it out slowly.  
  
Frank was so tired. He closed his eyes.  
  
He felt himself being lifted up into someone’s arms, carried up the steps and deposited gently into his bed.  
  
He heard the soft thump of footsteps leaving the bedroom and heading towards the toilet, and the sound of running water following shortly after. Frank curled himself into a smaller ball in the bed, feeling cold and forlorn as he hugged his knees.  
  
The footsteps came back.  
  
“Ray?” Frank asked in a quiet, vulnerable whisper.  
  
“Hmm?” Ray replied as he squeezed out the excess water from the wet towel into a small basin filled with water. He gently wiped the tears away from Frank’s face.  
  
“I know why Gerard didn’t want me now.”  
  
Ray was taken aback by that statement and he nearly dropped the towel in his hands. Then, looking as though he was putting in much effort to school his countenance into a more serene expression, he replied uncertainly.  
  
“What do you mean by that, Frank?  
  
“Gerard. Gerard didn’t want me.”  
  
Ray shook his head, his hair bouncing from side to side.  
  
“No, Frank. Gerard loves – loved you.”  
  
“He didn’t want me at first.” Frank replied listlessly. “He said he wasn’t a good man. That one day I would find out what kind of person he was, and that I would regret it.”  
  
“But I didn’t care. I wanted him then. And he gave in to me.” Frank said as he looked up at Ray helplessly.  
  
“He didn’t want me.” Frank repeated again, fresh tears filling his eyes. Ray could see the raw grief etched in Frank’s face again, and there was nothing left of the smiles that Ray and Bob had painstakingly managed to slowly put back on Frank’s face again in the past few weeks.  
  
 _Oh Frank._  
  
Ray felt a small lump in his throat. He said nothing as he lifted the fringe off Frank’s face and cleaned his sweaty forehead.  
  
“Gerard was right. Now that I know why he was pushing me away… because of… Lizzie… I… I… regret it.” Frank mumbled and he choked on his tears.  
  
“Don’t say that!” Ray snapped, tossing the towel back into the basin of water. The towel landed with a soft “plop” in the water.  
  
Frank’s eyes widened. It was the first time Ray lost his temper with him.  
  
Ray saw the shock in Frank’s expression and sighed.  
  
“Don’t say that,” Ray repeated, gently this time.  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“You don’t mean it.” Ray said firmly.  
  
“I do.”  
  
Ray shook his head again. “No, you don’t.” He insisted. He saw the denial in Frank’s eyes, and corrected himself.  
  
“Maybe you think you do now. But you don’t. And you never will.”  
  
There was a fire that ignited in Frank’s eyes at Ray’s words and he opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, Ray cut him off.  
  
“Because you love him, Frank. And he loved you. That will never change, no matter what happens. **You** know that better than _I_ do.”  
  
And the fire in Frank’s hazel eyes died at those words. He turned away from Ray, curling under the covers.  
  
“What should I do now?” He mumbled over and over again. “What should I do now, Lizzie?”  
  
Ray stared helplessly down at the quivering body under the covers.  
  
“Sleep, Frank.”  
  
There was nothing else that Ray could say.


	13. Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bob gives Frank some advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Chemical Romance - Famous Last Words
> 
> I am not afraid to keep on living  
> I am not afraid to walk this world alone  
> Honey if you stay, I'll be forgiven  
> Nothing you can say can stop me going home

 

Bob turned his navy blue Subaru into the driveway. He shifted his gear into neutral and engaged his parking brake. It was 3am in the morning, and Bob was back at Gerard’s place. Ray had called earlier and told him that he had left Frank asleep on his bed, but Bob was still worried about Frank and wanted to sneak back into the house to check up on him, just to make sure he was okay.  
  
Bob settled back into the driver’s seat, sighing heavily and feeling maudlin. It had been six weeks since Gerard’s death. Six weeks in which he had struggled with his emotions.  
  
At first he was furious with Gerard, infuriated at him for taking the coward’s way out of life and for not telling Ray or himself about what he was going through. Bob was firmly convinced that they would have come to a solution for Gerard… or at least be able to dissuade him from this extreme course of action. There was a small voice at the back of his mind that told Bob that they probably wouldn’t have been able to give Gerard any solution, and the two agents would have most likely been forced to ask Gerard to surrender and to admit to his crimes. Things would have been a lot worse for Gerard, especially for Gerard’s ego and pride… but Bob firmly squashed the thought at the back of his mind.  
  
Then he vacillated between bouts of depression and acceptance. He missed Gerard a lot. He missed the fucking bastard’s ability to make him laugh, his sarcastic wit and beautiful smile. But Gerard was dead. And he would never be able to see Gerard again.  
  
He got fucking pissed at the local bar a few times and it was a wonder he hadn’t been robbed of all his money or something much worse like getting his assigned firearm stolen. The last time he got smashed, Ray was there to pick up after him. The exhausted, exasperated yet understanding look on Ray’s face as he brought Bob home to care for him, painstakingly cleaning him up after his vomit-fest with no complains despite the fact that Ray had to, at the same time, care for an indisposed Frank as well made Bob feel mortified as hell. When he saw the fatigue on Ray’s countenance the next morning, he decided to swear off the bottle for a while, at least until he could get a grip on his emotions.  
  
And of course everyday he thought about Gerard’s last wish. And every time he thought of it, fresh waves of resentment, reluctance, acceptance and determination came with it. Gerard wanted Bob to look after Frank, and he would do it, not only because Bob wanted to respect Gerard’s last wishes, but also because Frank had been a good friend to Bob over the past few years and he wasn’t about to lose Frank to this as well.  
  
Bob exited the car quietly and looked up at the windows of the house. It was dark and Frank should be asleep by now. Hopefully, Bob could get into the house and check on him, then slip out again without Frank noticing.  
  
Bob pressed his index finger on the biometric screen. The screen lit up as the security system responded, prompting him for the numerical password. His fingers danced over the keypad and the sensor over the door beeped softly. The door swung open silently and Bob slipped into the house. He propped his foot against the closing door, preventing it from slamming shut as it usually did. He caught the door and reached out to turn the doorknob before gently pushing it shut with a little click.  
  
“You know, just because he gave you access to the house doesn’t mean that I can’t take it away.”  
  
 _Well. So much for stealth._  
  
Bob stopped in his tracks, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights. He looked up the stairs leading to the top level of the house and caught the slim silhouette of Frank’s body sitting on the steps of the stairs.  
  
 _How stupid of you, Bob. If this was a real case you would have gotten yourself killed._  
  
He scolded himself mentally.  
  
In the pallid moonlight shining through one of the windows of the house, Frank was leaning against the wall, his eyes closed. His feet were stretched out diagonally across the steps. His left leg was propped up slightly, supporting his left hand which was holding what appeared to be a can of beer, and a lit cigarette in the other hand which was resting loosely against his right thigh. There was a white ashtray on the step next to Frank.  
  
“I know,” Bob replied. He shuffled his feet and leaned heavily against the closed door, sighing as he waited for the outburst that he was expecting to come. Bob winced at the thought of Frank hurling the innocuous-looking ashtray at him.  
  
There was silence as Frank opened his eyes and set down the can of beer next to the ashtray. He looked up and focused his attention on Bob, his hazel eyes appearing obsidian in the faint glow of light.  
  
“And just because I understand that the two of you did it for my sake doesn’t mean that I forgive you guys for choosing to hide it from me.” Frank said irritably, his eyes smoldering with anger.  
  
“I know,” Bob said contritely. He spread his hands outwards, shrugging in a little what-were-we-supposed-to-do-instead? gesture.  
  
“I would have thought our friendship was enough for a little honesty between all of us. This didn’t help at all. It made me feel doubly betrayed, Bob. I mean, with Gerard… it was already devastating enough. I didn’t need the additional burden of my friends hiding the truth from me.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
Frank laughed bitterly.  
  
“Really, Bob, is that all you can say?”  
  
“I’m sorry, Frank. We truly wanted the best for you. You needed time.” Came the helpless reply.  
  
“Apology not accepted.” Frank said humorlessly.  
  
“I’m really…” Bob stopped in mid-sentence as he reacted with lightning quick reflexes, catching the can of beer that Frank had thrown at him.  
  
“Shut the fuck up and sit down.” Frank replied harshly, re-arranging his limbs and stretching them out in front of him instead.  
  
Bob bit back a relieved sigh.  
  
 _Not quite forgiven, but I’ll take what I can get._  
  
A few quick strides up the steps and he sat down next to Frank, the white ashtray between them. He examined the unopened can of beer in his hands which felt lukewarm in his grip. He shot Frank a quizzical expression.  
  
Frank caught the puzzled look in Bob’s expression and smiled grimly.  
  
“I haven’t drank since Gerard managed to kick his alcohol addiction. I bought a pack of beer wanting to drink myself into a drunken stupor… but I couldn’t bring myself to open this can.” Frank shook his head. “Everytime I try to, I imagine the look on Gerard’s face… and I just can’t do it.”  
  
He puffed on his cigarette, removing the thin stick from between his lips as he blew out the fumes.  
  
“I’ve been holding it for a while, so it’s probably warmed up and nasty now. It most likely tastes like shit now. You might want to get a chilled one from the fridge.” Frank added as an afterthought.  
  
Bob nodded but made no move to replace the can of beer. Instead, he set the can down next to the ashtray. There was a period of time when Gerard was so obsessed with alcohol that he drank all the time. It nearly cost him his job at the Bureau and Frank. Frank had helped him though that tough period, even going to the extent of not drinking as well.  
  
Bob reached into his pocket, fumbling for his own pack of cigarettes and his lighter. He lit one stick up, slipping it in between his lips as he stretched his legs out in front of him, leaning backwards casually with his elbows on the step above the one he was sitting on and stared up at the ceiling of the house.  
  
They sat in silence for a while. Bob glanced occasionally at Frank, who seemed content for the moment to just sit in the darkness in his company.  
  
“I don’t know what to do, Bob,” Frank said, breaking the silence suddenly as he rubbed his face with the back of his hand tiredly.  
  
“Tell me what you are feeling now.” Bob said simply.  
  
“I should have thought that was obvious,” Frank shot Bob a black look, feeling his patience wear thinner by the moment. “Where were you the past few weeks?”  
  
“Humor me,” Bob tilted his head in a placating manner, flicking the ashes from his cigarette into the white ash-tray.  
  
“Fine.” Frank threw his arms up in exasperation. Bob looked patiently at Frank.  
  
“I feel like…. I feel like I’m boiling over with all these emotions inside me. I miss Gerard so much. I want him by my side. It feels like I can’t breathe every time I think about him.”  
  
Frank stared down at the end of his cigarette.  
  
“It feels like the world’s about to stop spinning on its axis at any moment, but it’s still going to continue spinning anyway cause the world doesn’t give a fuck about me. And apparently Gerard doesn’t give a fuck about me either.” Frank stopped in mid-tirade.  
  
“Fuck,” he cursed as he rubbed angrily at the traitor-tears that were escaping from him. Bob patted him clumsily on the back as Frank panted slightly.  
  
“Gerard doesn’t give a fuck about me,” Frank continued, breathing in heavily. “Cos he’s dead now. Even when he was alive, he chose to die and that shows how much he cares about me, doesn’t it? But I love him. Oh God, Bob, I love him so much.”  
  
Frank stubbed out the cigarette heatedly into the ash-tray.  
  
“And then I think about Lizzie.” Frank placed a palm over his chest and turned towards Bob. “And it feels like my heart’s being ripped out. I feel… I just can’t believe that Gerard would do such a thing. I want to forgive Gerard… but at the same time, I can’t, because it’s **Lizzie**. My beautiful, loving sister.”  
  
“How can I ever forgive him for doing such a thing to her? And then I feel miserable for loving him – the… mon... monster who raped her.” Frank stuttered over the word, his face turning white with the strain.  
  
“And it hurts so much calling him that.” Frank said softly. “Trying to reconcile the word ‘monster’ with Gerard. I can’t. I really can’t. I love him so much, and it hurts me to think of him like that. He’s been there for me. He’s always been my pillar, my protector through all those bad times.”  
  
“I miss her. I miss him. I feel so betrayed, so confused, so guilty… and helpless. I don’t know what I should do, Bob.”  
  
Bob stared back at Frank’s tear-rimmed eyes and said very kindly, “It’s very simple, Frank. You just have to forgive him.”  
  
There was a moment of dumb-folded silence as Frank took in his words.  
  
“That’s easy for you to say,” Frank responded sharply.  
  
“Why is it easy for me to say?” Bob’s temper flared. “Is it because you **THINK** that I have no experience with betrayal from a loved one, or is it because you **THINK** that I have no experience with forgiveness?”  
  
Frank looked somewhat abashed as Bob groaned in annoyance.  
  
“Granted, I said it was simple. Simple as in, no complications, no frills, no nothing. Just one act. Forgiving someone **is** simple, but I never said it was going to be **easy**!” Bob continued.  
  
Frank cocked his head to the side, taking in Bob’s words. After a while, he let out an exhausted sigh.  
  
“Explain,” he said.  
  
Bob shook his head a little at Frank’s flat tone as he held his cigarette delicately between his fingers.  
  
“Do you remember the time when Gerard was shot in his right shoulder?”  
  
Frank tapped the bottom of his chin thoughtfully.  
  
“How could I forget? It scared the living shit out of me when I got the call from Ray.” Frank’s eyes clouded over with the memories as he leaned heavily on the wall again. “Gerard told me that he got shot while trying to help you… when I asked him why, he said that it simply wasn’t his prerogative to tell me anything more. He didn’t feel that it was his place to say anything about what happened, and that if I really wanted to know, I would have to ask you. That was all he said to me.”  
  
“And at that time, apart from the fact that we weren’t close…” Frank nodded absent-mindedly at Bob, “Gerard never hid anything from me that wasn’t worth hiding. It was always for my own good, or for someone else’s.”  
  
Frank made a little unhappy face as he thought about it. “And that secret he kept for twenty years was definitely worth hiding,” Frank continued a little softly.  
  
Bob nodded, a little surprised. He hadn’t explicitly said to Gerard that he didn’t want anyone else to know, or that he wanted a little privacy about what had happened, much less keep it from Frank. In fact, considering that Frank was Gerard’s boyfriend, it was really quite startling that Gerard had made his own decision to respect Bob’s privacy instead.  
  
“Good man,” he said a little wistfully. He took a little puff of his cigarette as he gathered his thoughts. “It’s actually a really long story.”  
  
Frank nodded, looking interestedly at Bob.  
  
“Well,” Bob began. “My mother died ten years ago, when I was twenty-two. The day she died, I was away at college, and my father was away on a business trip.”  
  
Bob paused.  
  
“My mother’s death almost destroyed me. She had been found kneeling, bound and gagged, and had been shot execution style in the back of her head. I wasn’t in the force then, but the files I dug up on her later … I’ll never forget the photos.” He closed his eyes as the images welled up again in his mind, still fresh in his memory and untouched by time. His mother in her favourite red dress, lying slumped on the floor, her feet still in a kneeling position on the ground. The back of her head blown out by the gunshot, the gaping wide hole in her cracked skull and blood everywhere…  
  
“The police said that it was a burglary. The house had been ransacked, and my mom, they said, had been collateral damage. She had probably been _unlucky_.” Bob sneered slightly at the last word. “But to me… It felt personal. The fact that she had been forced into a kneel, and that she had been shot at close range and all… it felt pre-mediated. But the stupid fuckers never found anything.”  
  
“My father was devastated…or at least I thought he was. I was never close to my father when I was older. I adored and loved the man when I was younger. He was the perfect father, loving and a good role model, but when he started his own investment business, we drifted apart. He was never home. My mother became my pillar of strength and during my adolescent years, she was almost like my only parent. It didn’t help that during the period of time when my mother had died, my father’s business was going downhill and he was facing possible bankruptcy. The police suspected him initially because she had named him as the beneficiary of her life insurance policy, but because he had been away in Germany, and because the house had been plundered and many valuables had been stolen, they quickly ruled him out as a suspect.”  
  
“And so, because they had nothing concrete, my mother’s case became one of the many cold-cases in the database.” Bob said bitterly. Frank looked empathetically at Bob as Bob paused to think.  
  
“My father ultimately received the insurance payout and saved his business. It managed to stay afloat for a while, but eventually still failed in the end two years later.”  
  
“I never suspected my father.” Not once, Bob thought bitterly to himself.  
  
“He always looked so devastated whenever I mentioned my mother. Even if he hadn’t been there for the later part of my childhood, I still loved him and worshipped him. I still treated him with the respect that I thought he deserved. ”  
  
“Everything changed the day I overhead his conversation with Elliot Lancer.”  
  
 _Three years ago…_  
  
Bob slipped out of his car, fumbling with the groceries he was holding as he pushed open the glass doors. He waved merrily at Michael, the burly security guard of the apartment block, who was sitting at the desk in the lobby. He jabbed the button of the elevator for the eleventh floor and tapped his feet impatiently as the slow-as-fuck elevator crawled its way up the block. There was a soft ding as the doors slid open and Bob walked down the passageway towards his father’s apartment. He was about to turn the corner towards the front door of his father’s unit when he heard hushed whispers drifting towards him.  
  
Up till today, Bob couldn’t be sure what had made him stop to listen to the conversation.  
  
“You promised me money for my wife’s treatment, Alfred!”  
  
“And I did! I gave you the money years ago,” Came a hiss. Bob tilted his head in recognition. That voice belonged to his father, Alfred Bryar. “I have no more.”  
  
“Please,” The other voice broke as it pleaded. “My wife is dying. We need the money for her treatment.”  
  
“I’m sorry, but I really have no more money to give you. My business has failed many years ago.” Alfred’s tone was cold and flat.  
  
“I did the dirty work for you…. I killed her for you.” The other voice suddenly grew low and threatening. “Your son is an FBI agent, isn’t he? What would he say if I told him all about what you hired me to do?”  
  
Bob grew still at the implication of those words.  
  
 _Murder?_  
  
“Are you threatening me, Lancer?” His father said silkily. “Who are you? A criminal who has been released from jail twice. A repeat offender - a robber. Who do you think he will trust? His beloved father, or a petty criminal?”  
  
There was a soft response that Bob could not make out. Alfred snorted.  
  
“Think twice, Lancer. If I go to jail, so will you. And who’s going to look after your indisposed wife then?” Bob could almost hear the sneer in his father’s voice. “Go home, Lancer, and spend the rest of her dying days with her.” The door slammed shut.  
  
The groceries lay forgotten on the ground the moment Lancer turned around the corner and ran smack into Bob.  
  
 _Present day…_  
  
“I hauled Lancer in for questioning.” Bob continued after he had recounted the conversation between his dad and Lancer. Frank looked slightly horrified, and Bob knew that Frank had managed to piece together the little information that Bob had given him. “The cruelty in my father’s voice… I had never heard it before and never had it directed towards me before. And the fact that it existed… it chilled me to my bones. I always thought my father was kind and loving. Had it all been an act? I was trembling with fear, utterly frightened about the horrifying truth that I knew that I was about to discover as I brought Lancer to the Bureau.”  
  
“Gerard was the first to see me arrive at the Bureau with Lancer in haul... He took one look at the expression on my face and knew that something was wrong. He stopped me before I entered the interrogation room. Gerard forced everything out of me… and maybe it was my vulnerability at that moment, but I told him about my terrible suspicions. Gerard was the one who interviewed Lancer together with me.”  
  
“Lancer told us everything. No matter how intensely I grilled him for details, no matter how I poked and prodded at his account of the events that had occurred, everything _fit_. He told us how my father had wanted money from my mother to save his company, but my mother had refused to give him any. The money she had were her savings and most of it was my college fund for the years that I still had ahead of me. My father was furious, but she wouldn’t change her mind. She had never liked his investment business as it had taken him away from the family. When the monetary situation in the company grew desperate, my father coveted her insurance money. He hired Lancer, telling him that he would pay for the chemotherapy that Lancer’s wife required with part of the insurance money. He wanted Lancer to murder my mother while he was away on business so that he would have an alibi.”  
  
Bob sucked in a breath and his eyes dimmed with tears.  
  
“My father hated my mother for ‘abandoning him to his doom’, Lancer said. Lancer told me how my father had planned my mother’s death. He wanted Lancer to tie my mother up, and force her to her knees to humiliate her…. Lancer forced her to kneel right in front of the photograph in the living room. **MY** photograph. My father told Lancer to tell my mother, “Look where your beloved son has gotten you so far.” And the last words my mother heard were ‘Alfred sends you his regards’.”  
  
Bob trembled in the memory.  
  
“I snapped. My father… was he truly such a vicious man? I could not believe it. I shouted at Lancer, hauling him upwards by the collar and shaking him violently. ‘Why should I believe you?’ I said to him. And Lancer laughed in my face. The **fucking murderer** laughed in my face. ‘The problem is that you already do, Bryar, otherwise you would never have brought me in.’ I’ll never forget what he said.” Bob shook his head sadly. Frank leaned closer towards Bob, putting his hand comfortingly across Bob’s shoulders and rubbing his back gently. Bob drew in another shaky breath as he continued.  
  
“I fled the room. I was feeling so angry and betrayed… I went straight to my father.” He closed his eyes in shame. “I was so foolish.”  
  
“I confronted him. I wanted him to tell me that it was all a lie. But he didn’t deny it. I was distressed. How could he do this to a woman who had loved him without reservations, to a woman who had given him a son and a family? How could he have robbed me of my mother? I wanted him to surrender. I was begging him to do it.” Bob stopped suddenly.  
  
“He drew a gun on me,” Bob shuddered as he recalled what happened next. Frank let out a little gasp of shock. “I was stunned. Staring down the barrel of the gun, I suddenly couldn’t recognize the man who I had called my father for twenty-nine years. My reality was shattered. I was devastated. My heart broke, and I froze.”  
  
“My father pulled the trigger,” Bob sighed. “And suddenly Gerard was there. Later on, I realized that in the midst of my fury and desperation, I had left the door to his apartment open. Gerard came in just in time, accessed the situation and protected me. He took the bullet for me. And he also shot my father, killing him on the spot, while I stood there, dazed and heart-broken.”  
  
Frank was rubbing Bob’s back contemplatively.  
  
“I never blamed Gerard for what he had to do. Even though he killed my father… he was killing someone that I didn’t recognize anymore. Somebody who had changed so completely that I didn’t even know who he was anymore.” Bob said softly.  
  
He smiled weakly at Frank. “And slowly, I learnt to forgive my father as well. Do you still think that I have no right to give you advice?” Bob asked Frank seriously. “I think we’ve both had our fair share of betrayal from a loved one, yes?”  
  
Frank nodded, ashamed.  
  
“I’m sorry Bob, I really shouldn’t have assumed something like that.”  
  
Bob waved a hand in mid-air nonchalantly, and took a quick puff of his cigarette. He shrugged off the apology. “It’s okay. Can I give you some advice?”  
  
Frank dipped his head in acquiescence.  
  
Bob blew the smoke out of his mouth as he pondered over what he wanted to say.  
  
“It’s funny how bad things can change people. It’s what you choose to do with these mistakes that determine the kind of person you are.” Bob said. “Mistakes can mould you into a different person. Look at what my Dad did… and look at what Gerard did. My Dad… he persisted on, making more mistakes to cover up with his prior wrongdoings. He tried to kill me.” Bob shook his head sadly.  
  
“Yes, Gerard did something wrong and didn’t turn himself in. But he took his mistakes, kept it close to his heart and changed. His mistakes became part of him… they were a constant reminder to him. He used it for good, Frank. He became an FBI agent. And he was damn good at it. He saved lives. He fought crime. His mistakes humbled him, and he used it to become the man you love.”  
  
“I know it’s not easy to forgive Gerard right now. I know you feel guilty, angry, frustrated, betrayed, miserable… And it feels as though you’ll never be able to forgive him when you think of Lizzie. But is it worth it to put yourself in so much pain and hate? Is it really worth it? Do you really want to hate Gerard?”  
  
Frank shook his head slowly.  
  
“I don’t want to. I still love him. But all I can do now is to hate him. For leaving me behind. For hiding the truth from me. For betraying me.” Frank whispered quietly, the hurt reflected in his eyes. Frank shakily reached for his own packet of cigarettes as he lit up again. “It’s all I can think about now.”  
  
Bob looked at Frank as he spoke again. “It was the same for me, Frank. Whenever I thought of my mother, I felt as though I would never be able to move on from the hate I had for my father. But I’m not asking you to forgive Gerard right away. Forgiveness is not easy. Hell, I know how hard it is. I had to take a long time before I could forgive my father.”  
  
Bob regarded Frank thoughtfully.  
  
“My father killed my mother… then tried to kill me. I haven’t forgotten that. I haven’t forgotten how he pulled the trigger… Haven’t forgotten the sound of the gunshot. But whenever I think of my father, I don’t remember him as my mother’s murderer. I don’t remember him as the man who tried to kill me. I remember him as the man who held my hand as I took my first steps. I remember him as the man who taught me how to ride a bike, the man who cleaned up my wounds when I fell off my bike and kissed it all right. I remember him as the man who tucked me into bed at night, telling me fairy tales and stories of super heroes and crime fighters. I now mourn the loss of my loving father I had when I was younger, and of the father I never had when I was older.”  
  
“I haven’t forgotten what my father did, but I forgive him for what he chose not to do – and for what he chose to do. It’s that simple, Frank.” Frank looked deep in thought as Bob patted him on the back.  
  
“Don’t think about Gerard as the man who raped your sister, Frank,” Bob said gently. “Think of Gerard as the man who loved you with all his heart and soul. Think of him as the man who supported you through all the ups and downs, and did everything for you.” Bob said a little sadly.  
  
“You have to learn to remember the good, Frank. You don’t have to forget the bad, but you can accept it as part of him. Part of what made him Gerard. Part of what made him the man you love.”  
  
“What happened with Lizzie changed him, Frank. He lived with the guilt for twenty years. Yes, Gerard committed a crime, he did something wrong, he left you behind, lied to you, betrayed you…. But he also protected you, guided you and loved you for so many years. Will you hate him for the years to come, Frank? Or will you forgive him and love him for the man he had become for you?” Bob looked quizzically at Frank, raising an eyebrow.  
  
“I want to forgive him.” Frank said finally.  
  
Bob looked at Frank as Frank blew out the smoke from his mouth, looking a little at peace after his declaration. His shoulders, which had been tense throughout the conversation, were now relaxed.  
  
“I will try,” Frank said after a long pause. “Thank you, Bob.”  
  
“We've all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That's who we really are.*” Bob twirled the cigarette in his fingers before stubbing it out.  
  
Frank grinned suddenly.  
  
“Did you seriously just quote “Harry Potter” at me? Why, I never pegged you to be a closet fan, Bob Bryar, you sly one.”  
  
Bob chortled, unabashed.  
  
“And you know this how?” Bob laughed at the sheepish expression on Frank’s face. “Oh I forgot, I’m talking to the man who has an altar to JK Rowling.”  
  
“It’s not an altar, it’s just a shelf of her books,” Frank retorted. “And the movies,” he added as an afterthought. “Alan Rickman is fucking sexy.”  
  
“A shelf which you refuse to let anyone else touch,” Bob shot back. “Anyone who has seen the reverent way you treat those books would have thought otherwise. And you even have both the U.K and the U.S versions of the book, **and** the rest of the spin-offs to the series!” Bob blanched as he remembered Frank’s last statement. “Rickman???! Really???”  
  
“What can I say, the woman’s a bloody genius,” Frank noted unrepentantly. “Rickman’s got a voice like sex. And he was awesome as Severus Snape.”  
  
Bob frowned and shrugged his shoulders, apparently not seeing the appeal. As Frank launched animatedly into one of his favourite topics in the world, his hands moving in quick little gestures, his countenance excited and radiant, Bob let a small smile slip onto his face.  
  
It was a small little step forward in Frank’s recovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bob's quote was what Sirius Black said in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (the movie).


	14. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It's been exactly a year today... "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Within Temptation - Forgiven
> 
> You gave up the fight  
> You left me behind  
> All that's done's forgiven  
> You'll always be mine  
> I know deep inside  
> All that's done's forgiven

  
  
_One year later – Gerard’s 1 st death anniversary_

  
It was a windy day. Frank held the bouquet of tea roses in his arms, cradling it against the wind. They looked so fragile in his grasp. He brushed the pale-pink petals which were tinged with purple around the edges softly, and they felt like silk against his fingers.  
  
When Frank had visited the florist, the pale-pink tea roses sitting innocently on the counter-top had caught his eye. They were glistening with faint little droplets of water, and under the light, Frank had been awestruck by their beauty. Tea-roses, the florist had said, meant “I’ll always remember” in the language of flowers.  
  
It felt right for the occasion.  
  
Frank had nodded in response and requested the florist to pick out some fresh ones for a bouquet.   
  
He laid the roses in front of the gravestone, leaning forward to clean the marble with the sleeve of his jacket.  
  
 _In loving memory of Gerard Arthur Way_

_1977-2012_

_Beloved lover and friend_  
  
“I pity you all... Most of you will die---scratch that---ALL of you.*”  
  
“Hi Gerard,” Frank said. He brushed the leaves off the gravestone, smiling at the funny and slightly morbid epithet that Gerard had always told Frank that he wanted to put on his grave.    
  
“It’s been exactly a year today,” Frank continued as he settled down next to the tombstone. “It’s been a difficult year, but I’ve been doing okay so far. I admit it was really hard in the beginning. I missed you every day. I cried almost every day. Hell, I still miss you, Gerard.” Frank trailed his fingers across the marble.  
  
“And when I found[](http://fierda.livejournal.com/6785.html) out what you did back then… Can you believe how overprotective Bob and Ray were? Bastards kept the truth from me for more than a month,” Frank shook his head, smirking ruefully at the memory, “I was devastated when I knew what you had done to Lizzie. It felt as though you had destroyed my world. I felt betrayed, guilty, angry... But I missed you even more fiercely.” Frank sighed.  
  
“It’s been easier for me now. Bob has helped a lot.”  
  
Frank paused in his monologue. He turned to the gravestone and starting speaking again.  
  
“Both Bob and Ray have been very supportive towards me, especially Bob. It helps that he understands what I’m going through. And when I see how strong he is… I can’t help but want to do the same. To be as resilient as he is, to be able to smile and live on happily despite everything that has happened. To be able to forgive his father, look back[](http://fierda.livejournal.com/6785.html) and still love his father despite all the mistakes he made.”  
  
“Ray has always been there for me too. He’s like the patient older brother I never had. His presence has always been warm, comforting and reassuring.” Frank gazed at the sky, watching the clouds drift by.  
  
“Now that I think about it… I really ought to thank you, Gerard. Without you, I wouldn’t have made such good friends.” Frank chortled.  
  
“I’ve been promoted, Gerard. I finally got the chance to become a shareholder in the firm. It’s amazing. It’s been my dream for such a long time. I wish you were here to share it with me.”  
  
“Ray’s been good too. I heard he’s been taking over your position as the next Lucifer in the department. Tormenting all the bastards.” Frank grinned. “And he’s currently dating Christa, which he says is all thanks to you. They’re really good together, Gerard,” Frank said, tapping the bottom of his chin thoughtfully. “Sometimes, they really scare me though. They can complete each other’s sentences you know?” Frank snickered as he remembered the look of incredulity on Bob’s face when they both realized the amazing chemistry between Ray and Christa – he could only imagine that his own look of disbelief was a mirror of Bob’s countenance.  
  
“And Bob’s doing really well at the Bureau too. He’s been on a few dates recently, but for the moment he doesn’t seem relatively keen on settling down with anyone yet. He’s never appreciated the blind dates that I’ve set him up for too. The last time I asked him out for lunch, and sneakily arranged a potential date to turn up as well before fleeing the restaurant with some lame excuse, he stormed over to our place and said to me, “Frank, I love you like a brother, but if you set me up on another blind date, I swear to God I will hit you over the head with a baseball bat.” Then he basically told me to mind my own business. Well, since he’s so adamant about it, I’m not going to interfere anymore.” Frank sniffed, still feeling a little sore about being told that he was being a nosey asshole.  
  
“I’ve been thinking about it recently... at least more rationally than before.” Frank said seriously. “About what you did. You were just a frightened fifteen year old back then. Although you made a mistake, and although you raped my sister… Bob was right. Your mistakes shaped you. It was your choices that defined you, it was your choices that molded you towards becoming the man I love. You protected me, loved me, cared for me and supported me… And for all the years we were together, you never left me until the very end. I’m very grateful for that, Gerard. I’m a better person because of that.”  
  
“I forgive you, Gerard. For everything you have done.” Frank said softly. He stood up, leaning over the top of the gravestone. “I’ll miss you. I’m letting you go now.” He closed his eyes and brushed a kiss on top of the cool marble. The wind brushed his cheek gently like fingers trailing across his skin.  
  
“Goodbye, Gee. I will always love you.”  Frank smiled. He brushed the top of the gravestone in an affectionate gesture, his thumb rubbing against the smooth edges. And then Frank turned and left the graveyard, the leaves skittering softly and trailing behind him in the wind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gerard's epithet was from the The Umbrella Academy, Volume 2.
> 
> A/N:
> 
> This was definitely not an easy fic to write.
> 
> I wrote the first two chapters two years ago. Then, I wavered between the choice of turning this into a horror fic, or an inspirational one (albeit slightly dark). I knew that an inspirational fic would be horribly boring to many. But in the end, I decided, screw it. Inspirational fic it would be. And after a hiatus where I had severe writer’s block for a few years, I came back a few months ago with a vengeance to write, write, WRITE.
> 
> Apart from the fact that this fic was meant to be depressing, angsty and horrible, it was also meant to be stimulating. I personally feel that it’s not a conventional fic. And I’m quite proud of that fact. I don’t think I’ve ever read a fic which focuses so much on the aftermath of someone’s death and a betrayal of great extent towards a loved one – in this I’m referring to both Gerard’s and Alfred’s betrayals.
> 
> Needless to say, Gerard was my favourite character. Gerard’s character was intricate, complicated but amazing to build and I loved describing him through his friends. His relationships with Frank, Ray and Bob were fun to write.
> 
> So was Gerard a good person? No, not really. He was a snarky bastard, sarcastic and sometimes spiteful. However, he wasn’t a bad person either. He was fiercely loyal to his friends. He made many changes to both the lives of Ray and Bob. Towards Ray, he was a protective friend, caring beneath all the smarminess. Ray started off as a rash and hot-headed agent, but gradually became more cool-headed due to Gerard’s influence. Towards Bob, Gerard helped him through a difficult period of time. Gerard protected Frank and loved him till his death. All three greatly love him, a person who possessed as much flaws as good attributes. Even if he had made a mistake and raped Elizabeth Iero many years ago, he used his mistakes to shape his life and he used it to make himself a good FBI agent.
> 
> I wrote this with the intention of driving home the message that life is not always split into black and white. Similarly, people are not all bad or good either. There are always gray areas. People make mistakes, and sometimes the mistakes end up defining them. The choice is theirs, however, to make let their mistakes make them into a better person… or someone much worse. 
> 
> I hope you have enjoyed this fic. I have certainly enjoyed writing it.
> 
> xo, Janice


End file.
